First Impressions
by The Storyteller of Dreams
Summary: "Do you want to be friends?" It's the littlest things which have the biggest impact. In which Shizuo's and Izaya's first meeting went a little bit better, and the world changes as a result. AU. Slow Build.
1. Prologue

_All it takes to cause an avalanche is a pebble. All it takes to create a tsunami is a ripple._

 _And so it goes that the minute differences in detail bring about the biggest changes._

 _This isn't a story of the universe you're familiar with. This isn't a story of the Ikebukuro you know._

 _The characters you're accustomed to won't act as you're used to. Yet, if you peer down at them, you may find that at the core, they're the same._

 _Same souls, different casings. Same locations, different happenings._

 _Are you ready to take a ride down the rabbit hole?_

* * *

It began like this:

Orihara Izaya leant against the second floor railings, overlooking the throngs of students milling around the courtyard. A smile curved his lips, knife sharp and thin. Nobody noticed him, because everybody has concerns on the ground, and not the sky.

 _(They would soon enough, though. Izaya never did like people ignoring him.)_

Except:

Heiwajima Shizuo was starting his first day of high school. Already, his temper was aggravated by the whispers which followed his wake and the frightened gazes trailing after him. A counter hung above his head like a Sword of Damocles, ticking down the time until he would burst, until he would rage against the world that pushed him away and isolated him.

 _(But he understood why. The world wasn't ready for someone like Heiwajima Shizuo, for a monster. It made sense they would run away from him. He understood that, he really did…)_

 _(It didn't make it hurt any less.)_

And because he had enough concern on the ground—the rumours of his unnatural strength and short temper a drowning wave which he had no choice but to tide over—Heiwajima Shizuo looked up to the sky.

That was when he caught sight of Orihara Izaya.

Izaya did not notice him amongst the hundreds of students swarming the campus, but Shizuo noticed _him_. The way he leant against the railing, overlooking the mass from above like some sort of detached god. The curve of his lips which was a mockery of a smile. Heiwajima Shizuo noticed him and hated him immediately.

And yet…

As he moved on, trying his best to follow the crowd, Shizuo's gaze lingered a moment longer at the solitary figure. _This one,_ he thought _, stood apart, away from others, even as he gazes down on us as if we're ants in a glass box, even as he tried to mimic the mannerisms of a false god…_

The bell rang. A warning. Shizuo hurried to his locker, but he spared a glanced at the single figure silhouetted against the blue sky in red and black. He wondered.

 _Can he be as lonely as me?_


	2. A Single Thought

_A single thought, once rooted, will linger in your mind until it has grown into an idea._

 _An idea, once it is considered, will haunt your mind until it becomes a belief._

 _A belief, once accepted, will murmur in your mind until it influences your actions._

 _An action, once started, will continue on in your mind until it changes your behaviour._

 _A behaviour, once repeated, will dictate your mind until it transform your destiny._

 _A destiny, once changed, can alter the whole world._

* * *

Chapter 1: A Single Thought

* * *

The thought liked to strike him out of the blue.

 _Can he be as lonely as me?_

It was…annoying to think that someone whom his instincts screamed _'TROUBLE'_ would garner this sort of attention from him. Normally, Heiwajima Shizuo would steer clear of anyone he deemed trouble, if not for their own sakes. He didn't like violence, and he hated that he had a predilection to throw whatever heavy thing is nearby at the one who _(unintentionally or not)_ annoyed him. He hated his accursed strength and hair-trigger temper, hated that he could, perhaps one day, accidentally kill or maim someone in his destructive rage. Hated that his infamous reputation drove people away before meeting him. Hated that there was pretty much nothing he could do to stop himself once the red haze set in, hated that there was no one who could keep up with him, who could stop him from being a _monster_.

Hate, hate, hate, _hate._

Yes, Heiwajima Shizuo was _very_ accustomed to hate.

Still, right now, what he hated the most was that whispering thought, which liked to linger in the recesses of his mind only to shout out _'Boo!'_ whenever he noticed the wide berth people gave him, or the swiftness in how his classmates would leave the classroom during lunch, as if they didn't want to be caught near him any more than necessary.

 _Can he be as lonely as me?_

His instincts told him to stay far, far away from the brunet teen with the scarlet eyes, and as far as Shizuo was concerned, it never steered him wrong. His mind, on the other hand, softly noted the empty classroom and the looks of fear on his classmates' faces, gently reminding him of a certain unwanted fact:

 _Nobody wanted to be with a monster like me._

And then, the thought would strike again.

 _Can he be as lonely as me?_

Shizuo quickly shot the thought down. _Nobody wanted to be with a monster like me, so why would he be any different?_

Satisfied with that, the blond ignored further reminders of the emptiness in his classroom and turned to his lunch, managing to find a silver lining in his classmates' rush to escape. At least this way, left alone with no one around, Shizuo could find some semblance of peace.

However, the thought refused to die, and murmured softly.

 _Because he stood apart from humanity…just like you._

* * *

He didn't mean to, but he found out the brunet's name.

 _Orihara Izaya_ , he heard from Shinra as the glasses-wearing teen told him of his middle school years, a week after his entrance to Raira Academy. As the genius doctor-to-be prattled on and on about what he missed during their time apart, Shizuo tasted the name in his mind. _Orihara Izaya._

His parents had an eccentric naming taste, the blond concluded.

With a name to match the face, he found new rumours which tagged the name _Orihara Izaya_. Most of them were from whispers he heard from his classmates as he pretended to ignore the world, while a few came from gossips which he happened to overheard from the more gang-minded students. _Orihara Izaya is cruel. Orihara Izaya stabbed Kishitani Shinra in middle school. Orihara Izaya deals with gangs and criminals like the Awakusu-kai and Asuki groups._

Shizuo wasn't quite sure which one was true.

He had asked Shinra about the stabbing. The brunet's eyes had widened slightly, before his usual smile became bigger by a fraction as he said _"Yes, Izaya did stab me in middle school."_

Shinra was a terrible liar.

He knew all about the nastiness of rumours and gossips. After all, it spread his infamous reputation, isolating him before he had any chance to make a favourable first impression. Did the same happened to this _Orihara Izaya_ or was he really as cruel as they say he was?

Shizuo thought back on the first time he saw him—the aloof air he wore as a jacket, the sharp gaze of his scarlet eyes, the curve of his lips—and found that he couldn't really conclude anything from that.

One doesn't need to be cruel to be lonely. It might be that one was lonely, and so became cruel.

 _After all,_ he thought, _if I didn't have Kasuka, or Tom, or even Shinra, I wouldn't know what I'll be, or_ _ **who**_ _I'll be._

As far as thoughts go, that wasn't a comforting one.

It did, however, hammered down a certain thought which had been trailing him ever since he caught a glimpse of this creature known as _Orihara Izaya._

 _Can he be as lonely as me?_

And the thought blossomed into an idea.

* * *

A day passed since his realisation, and it turned into a week, and then a month, until Heiwajima Shizuo realised that he was stalling and hated himself for it.

 _Why am I stalling?_ He grumbled to himself, seated once again in his empty classroom. A glance at the windows showed everyone merrily eating lunch outside, surrounded by friends. The blond bit a sausage harshly. _Just approach him. Just ask. The worst he could do is say no, and you're used to that, right?_

Still…

His instincts seethed against the thought. It had already identified him as an enemy, and so he must be avoided at all cost. Did he want more property damage to his name? Did he want to rack up more shame on his family? Did he want to, potentially, maim or kill a person?

 _No_. The thought terrified him to his very bones.

Still…

 _Can he be as lonely as me?_

 _If he is…what if…maybe we can be…_

If he continued stalling, he would never receive an answer.

 _I'll do it today,_ he nodded decisively. _After school, I'll approach him, and ask him, and if he doesn't want to be friends, then that's fine. I'm used to that._

 _But if he does…then maybe…_

He glanced around at the empty classroom, at the students eating lunch outside with their friends, at the many people down below who had people to talk to, people who weren't afraid of them.

And Shizuo thought:

 _It would be nice if the classroom isn't so empty during lunchtime._

* * *

His first impression of Orihara Izaya was that he was an asshole, and it didn't go any better from there.

"Why, hello there," the brunet smiled, all faux politeness which was downright condescending, "You must be Heiwajima Shizuo. I must admit, I didn't expect you would approach me. After all, I heard from Shinra how unsociable and temperamental you can be."

Shizuo was beginning to think his instincts had the right idea, and was sorely tempted to punch the smirk off his face. _But, but,_ the idea had taken root, and once the blond had decided on something, he would see it through to the end. Including _this_.

"Yeah, and you're Orihara Izaya," he said gruffly, pushing his fists into his pockets in hopes that it would still the urge to hit him, "I heard that you're an asshole, and they were right."

The scarlet-eyed teen laughed, grating on whatever thin nerves Shizuo had. "How _charming_. Calling someone you just met an asshole? Did they not teach you social etiquette in kindergarten?"

"They did. I was just never taught to be polite to someone I don't like." He retorted. The blond was certain that there were crescent-shaped marks on his palms now from clenching his fists so tightly.

The other tilted his head, the smirk never once slipping. "Ooh, so blunt. Tell me then, if you don't like me so much, why did you come here?"

And there it was; that question he'd been asking since he cornered the brunet by the lockers, one which he cursed himself for knowing the answer.

Shizuo glared at the floor, but when he realised that action meant bowing his head, he snapped his gaze to meet scarlet eyes. If the other was surprised, he gave no tells to show for it. Not that, the blond would catch it anyway. He wasn't a creature of subtlety and subterfuge, but rather one as straightforward and piercing as the sun. And so, it was only natural that he asked the question that had been haunting him in the most blunt, frank manner as possible:

"Do you want to be friends?"

Orihara Izaya's mask slipped.


	3. A Single Question

_Why?_

 _A single word, three letters, and yet so powerful it drove many minds to soar to heights they never dreamt of or to abysses deeper than they could ever imagined falling._

 _Why did this happen? Why would someone do this? Why now?_

 _Why? Why? Why?_

 _A single question, a three-lettered word, and a burning desire to_ _ **know**_ _._

 _Curiosity is a powerful thing indeed…_

* * *

Chapter 2: A Single Question

* * *

For as long as he knew, Orihara Izaya had been different.

He didn't know where this 'difference' came from. He came from a normal family, with normal—if absent—parents, and somewhat normal siblings. His neighbourhood was normal. There were no traumatic incidents, no abuse done to him. Nothing which could have triggered this ' _differentness'_ from him.

And yet, without knowing how or why, he had been set apart.

He was six when he first realised this. Where others his age had been struggling with their katakanas, he had been writing squiggly kanjis all over his papers. When his teachers noticed this, they murmured how smart he was and praised his genius.

He rather liked the attention.

He also noticed, at that age, how his classmates would look at his work and say _"Oh, you're so smart, Izaya!"_ in a longing way that said they wished very much to be like him. It said how they weren't content to be themselves, but to be someone else, someone _better_ than them, as if their current skins weren't adequate enough for whatever task they dreamt of.

That had been Izaya's first observation on humanity, and it had fascinated him ever since.

Humans were the only race on Earth to possess sapience—the ability to be wise, to ignore instincts and follow rational thoughts—and one of the things they desire was this? Izaya didn't understand, because for all his life he had always been comfortable with his own skin. Why would they wish to be someone else? What drove them to desiring such a thing? Why do they feel so inadequate?

He hadn't gotten his answer, but once the brunet had decided on something, he would see it through until the end. Including _this._

In his sixteen years of life, he had tried everything he could think of to try to answer the question. Pep talks, discouraging lectures, a nudge here and there to trigger a reaction. None of them had ever provided a satisfactory result though. There was always something, _something_ missing.

The question remained unanswered even after he met Shinra.

He supposed he ought to thank the glasses-wearing brunet. Before he had met him, Izaya had been content to be a passive observer of humanity, happy to stay on the side-lines and watch humans fumble through their daily lives without him leaving a mark on them. Then, he met Shinra, someone who was so absorbed in his own world—in his own _love_ —that it made Izaya jealous. Who, for some reason, took a knife for him even though Izaya hadn't done anything to earn such action.

 _Why!?_

The question, which had once been lingering in the recesses of his mind, burned fervour bright ever since.

* * *

Izaya could count the number of times he had been caught off guard in one hand.

The last time it happened was in middle school, when Shinra took a knife for him. It had shaken him more than he cared to admit and he had forced Shinra to promise him to never speak the truth of what happened back then. He never understood why the glasses-wearing teen would do such a thing for him when he was certain that he didn't mean much to the other. Perhaps it had been some twisted whim? A spur of the moment brought on by Shinra's daydream, his body reacting whilst his mind was lost in a world far removed from the rest of humanity?

Izaya didn't know, and he never asked. He would either find the answer himself or not at all. Any other method was simply unacceptable, akin to cheating in this game of observation and humanity he loved so much.

Humans were unpredictable, he knew, but they were unpredictable in ways that could be measured. Like variables which when arranged would either resulted in A, B, C, or D. He may not know which result he would gain until after the variables had been stringed up and the calculations made, but the outcomes were always something he expected. Sometimes, some people managed to pull out option E, and he would be thrilled, but those were rare and still safely within his realm of predictions.

Shinra—odd bouts of irregularity aside—was predictable. His sisters—despite feeling like rolling a pair of dices every time he interacts with them—were predictable. Humanity as a whole — occasional exceptions notwithstanding—was predictable.

Heiwajima Shizuo was not, and so Izaya concluded that he must be a monster.

It began a month into the school year, when the blond cornered him by the lockers, in the middle of changing his shoes and heading home. He had heard of the blond from wisps of rumours and infamous gossips from his schoolmates, and had asked Shinra to verify which ones were real and which ones were false. Izaya had been intrigued by his supernatural strength, but that was all. He wasn't interested in muscles or supposedly-impossible powers, but rather the psyche behind it. What was Heiwajima Shizuo like? How did that strength and rage tamper his personality? Was his mind like those of the rest of humanity, or was he among the exceptional 1% Izaya liked to observe?

Curiosity had brought him this far, and with those questions in mind, Izaya had asked Shinra to introduce him to Shizuo.

Somehow, Shizuo managed to botch that up without knowing it.

When he had approached him that fateful day, Izaya had been expecting a number of things. Chief among them was violence, because he knew of Shizuo's infamous temper and from the looks of it, it had seemed that the blond disliked him without him saying a word.

All of his expectations, prided predictions, and careful observations were smashed when Shizuo uttered the words:

" _Do you want to be friends?"_

* * *

At that time, Izaya had laughed and left without a word, never glancing back and so never saw the blond's defeated expression, set in a mix of regret and resignation. Izaya laughed and left, because there were no words he could use, nothing which would not betray his shock and surprise, the momentary break in his façade. He laughed and left, because there was nothing to say.

On his way home, the single, ever-persistent one word question rang like a fire drill in his mind.

 _Why?_

He knew of the rumours around him. For the most part, he was amused by it, if only because they managed to be incredibly accurate and wrong at the same time. Hell, he even spread some himself, just for some laughs. He enjoyed the incredulous whispers and bemused stares on him as he passed others by, revelling in being the centre of attention.

None of the rumours implied _anything_ which could lead to Shizuo asking his friendship.

The only one he would call friend was Shinra, and even the glasses-wearing teen would happily admit that Izaya wasn't a good person by any stretch. There was no logical reason for the blond to ask him such a thing, no reasonable excuse that would make desiring his friendship possible. Izaya knew who he was, and he had never bothered hiding it.

 _So why did he asked that?_

He didn't understand, and it only incensed him further.

People were like variables. Like numbers and letters which formed algebra. String them together in a combination of plus, minus, division, or multiplication, and you would get a result. Sometimes, the result weren't always what you expected, but it was within the realms of probability, and so, not unpredictable. Everything could be calculated, measured, and predicted. Everything followed a clear law, a cause-and-effect stream that could be understood if one was willing to _see_. Orihara Izaya had been observing humans for most of his life, and so he knew very well the possible motivations which could drive one's actions.

Heiwajima Shizuo's actions _**didn't make sense**_ _._

 _Why?_

As he reached his home, Izaya came to a decision: he would uncover the blond's motivation, discern his intentions, and with it, put him back to clearly defined variables which Izaya could predict. Failure wasn't an option, because the brunet never thought for a second that it was impossible. After all, no one else knew humanity better than him.

A grin tugged his lips as he opened the door to his house.

This was a game, and what was at stake was the answer to his question. And Orihara Izaya had never lost in any games.


	4. A Single Mask

_Humans love to wear masks._

 _To hide and conceal. To charm and seduce. To face reality or run away._

 _The reasons are many and varied, but humans love masks all the same._

 _And yet, despite this love, they also loathe them._

 _For you see, sometimes the masks can be a burden, tiresome to switch between them and heavy to remove._

 _And that is why some find the courage to drop them, and the insight to pierce through the masks of others._

 _But don't you see?_

 _The mask one wears…The face underneath…_

 _They are all part of the same reality._

* * *

Chapter 3: A Single Mask

* * *

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ _ **stupid!**_

 _Of course he would laugh! Who wouldn't in the face of such a pathetic attempt like that? Stupid…I should have just listened to my instincts._

Heiwajima Shizuo gnashed his teeth, absentmindedly snapping the pencil in his hand in two. Around him, his classmates and teachers looked at him nervously, but he didn't notice them at all. Instead, he glared at the window, as if blaming the perfect blue sky outside would make him feel better.

 _Idiot…I should have known…of course he wouldn't want to associate with me._

"Tch.." the blond scowled. With an elbow propped up on the table and his cheek on his palm, he continued to glare at the sky. The teacher, noticing his foul mood, did nothing to attract his attention back to class.

 _Who would want to be friends with a monster?_

* * *

He could count his friends with one hand.

There was Kasuka, his first friend and beloved younger brother. The one who never feared him despite the first appearance of his monstrous strength was him threatening to throw a fridge on him for eating his pudding. Calm, collected, and mature—everything Shizuo wanted to be as a person.

 _(In the depths of his heart, envy gnawed him. Here was someone who embodied everything he wanted to be, who lived up to his name better than he did. Jealousy twisted a single dark coil in the recesses of his heart, but it was easily dissipated by the radiance of his love for him.)_

Next was Shinra, who had been his friend since elementary and continued to be one for him until now. He had been one of the first to notice his monstrous strength, and he was the first outside his family to accept him despite of his penchant for violence and destruction. He wouldn't tell him, but Shizuo was somewhat grateful at his attempts to rationalise his strength. Even though he didn't understand his explanation, at least it was something he could use to justify himself as a human being.

 _(And yet there was always a pang of jealousy whenever he looked at him; something which envied how easily his friend could blend in, despite all the apparent weirdness once he opened his mouth. Shinra was never avoided because of fear, but rather his lack of it, and Shizuo couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not.)_

The last was Tom, his middle school friend and senpai who had been the one to inspire him to dye his hair. _"If they knew who to avoid, then they wouldn't disturb you, right?_ ". Ingenious advice, one which had brought some measure of peace to his life, and if not that, then at least lessened the possibility of violence. Shizuo wouldn't know what he would do without his senpai watching over him back then.

 _(A part of him resented it though; dyeing his hair blond, parading around like a walking caution sign. He would never be able to blend in now. Never be able to mingle and join the simple normality others enjoyed.)_

And then there was Izaya.

 _(There was neither jealousy, envy nor resentment towards him. Why would he, when he saw that he was as lonely as him?)_

* * *

Once more, an empty classroom.

Shizuo gazed down at the courtyard spread out below him, at his classmates playing ball with each other, at the girls who giggled and gossiped in their groups, at the boys who teased and taunted one another. The clear blue sky shone down upon them, bathing everything in its sun's beaming radiance. The window was slid opened by him a little while ago, and so fresh breeze would come flying in every now and then, bringing with them the joyous laughter from down below. His lunch, which was made by his mother _(she always made a little too much, always a little too hopeful…)_ , was opened on his desk, and yet as delicious as he knew it was, the blond didn't feel any desire to eat.

He didn't know where Shinra was. Perhaps meeting with Celty, his 'future wife' as he liked to put it. Shizuo wondered when he would be able to meet her, as he was curious to know the woman who both managed to capture his friend's heart so much and handled Shinra's…eccentricities. This 'Celty Sturluson' _(a foreigner's name, interesting)_ had to have the patience of a saint to live with someone like Shinra for so long.

 _(He wished Shinra was here. As annoying as his scientific prattle and anecdotes about Celty, having someone around was better than no one at all.)_

The sound of the door sliding opened captured his attention, but he ignored it. It was most likely one of his classmates picking up something they forgot. In cases like that, it was best for all involved for Shizuo to ignore them, both because the blond's attention was terrifying for regular humans and the blond hating the look of fear his presence inspired. When the door slid closed, he naturally assumed that whoever it was had taken whatever thing they forgotten and left.

"So this is what you during lunch? I must admit to be surprised. I thought someone with a reputation like _you_ would be wreaking havoc somewhere when they get the chance."

The voice jolted him, causing him to spin in place to glare at the speaker. Annoyingly _(and a little amazingly, he had to admit)_ , Orihara Izaya didn't even flinch at being the focus of a glare that would have men twice his age quaking in fear.

The brunet even had the audacity to _smirk_.

"Now, now, what's with that look?" The red-eyed _(there was no way that was genetics. He_ _ **had**_ _to be using contacts)_ student sauntered over to him, dragging a chair from the seat in front of him and plopping down on it with a genial smile. "Weren't you the one who wanted to be _friends?_ "

Shizuo glowered. "I did until you laughed at me and left."

The other teen made a patronizing _'tut, tut'_ noise which caused him to clench his fists, forcing himself to hold back the strong urge to punch the little shit and be done with this. Izaya leaned forward, placing his elbows on the blond's desk and crossing his arms, torso inclined forward and head tilted to the side just enough to give the suggestion of curiosity, if only his smirk didn't ruin the effect.

"Is this what you do when you want to befriend humans?" He glanced down, and Shizuo _knew_ he was looking at his clenched fists. The smirk on the brunet's lips widened. "Such open aggression. Are you going to toss me out the window? Throw this desk at me like the rumours say? I must say, that is an interesting way to befriend someone."

"Shut up!" The blond glowered, a bit surprised to see that it did nothing but seemingly amused the other teen further. A part of him was impressed by his guts. A more dominant part of him was severely irritated and wanted nothing more than follow the brunet's suggestion and tossed him out the window.

"I am curious though," Izaya continued, his voice as light as air and just as fake. The smirk was gone from his lips, and to normal observers, he seemed to affecting an open curiosity. Shizuo could still see the glint of amusement in those too-sharp eyes though, and knew this was just one of his many masks. "Why did you ask me? Were your other attempts at friendships as horrendously bad as the one you gave me, or did they run away upon first sight? I suppose monsters can only be friends with other monsters."

"Then why are _you_ here?" He shot back.

The smirk returned to his face, curling his lips up as if it never left. "Oh, don't misunderstand. I have absolutely no desire to be friends with a _monster_. I am simply curious as to how one works, how they can mask themselves and masquerade as humans. It's quite interesting, don't you think?"

"I think you're crazy." Shizuo countered, crossing his arms over his chest, glaring at the brunet sitting across him. "And masks? Feh, you're the one who's wearing them."

"Everyone wears a mask, some wear several." Izaya casted a deliberate gaze at the students milling the courtyard. Somehow, it compelled the blond to do the same, to look at them and wondered if he had missed something. "Do you truly believe that they don't? I can tell you right now that one of those girls over there," he pointed to a group of girls sitting underneath a tree, "thinks that her so-called 'friends' aren't good enough for her and is planning to jump ship to another group. One of them is also planning to cheat with the boyfriend of another girl in their group." Izaya turned towards him, smiling that sickly sweet smile that made Shizuo want to puke. "Friendship is a wonderful thing, ne?"

"Alright, so some people are jerks. Your point?" The blond glared at him. "It's true that there are people who's willing to screw their friends just to get ahead, but that's not _all_ of them." He remembered Kasuka, and Shinra, and Tom. "There are some genuinely nice people out there, those who are worth it. It's just a matter of finding them." He continued to pin the other down with a scowl, scrutinizing the brunet's fake cheerful disposition, the gleam in his scarlet eyes, the razor-sharp edge of his tongue. With a flash of insight, Shizuo said:

"The world isn't as cruel as you think, and even if it is, it doesn't mean you have to be so."

Still, sudden silence. And then:

Laughter.

"Pfft…Hahaha!" Izaya laughed, almost doubling over in mirth. All Shizuo could do was stare at him, watching him warily as his laughter dissipated into snickers, and then into giggles. "Not as—you're really _naïve_ , Shizu-chan. I couldn't believe that someone like _you_ could be so—so—!" He laughed again, his laughter cutting off whatever he was about to say.

It took Izaya several minutes to compose himself. Shizuo shifted in his seat in the meantime, still scowling heavily at the brunet, but his anger was giving way to confusion and simmered down irritation. There were some unfortunate implications niggling the back of his mind, something which poked at him and prodded his suspicion. _What had made Izaya so cynical?_

 _What_ _ **could**_ _turn someone into_ _ **this**_ _?_

"You done yet?" The blond glowered when he couldn't bear to hear the brunet's mocking laughter anymore. "What are you here for anyway? Don't you have someone else to bother?"

"Ah yes—pfft…haha… _that_ ," The brunet chuckled, his mirth still clearly evident in the curve of his lips and the gleam in his eyes, "Haven't I told you already? You should learn to listen better, _Shizu-chan_."

"One, don't call me that," Shizuo said through clenched teeth. "Second, you said a lot of things but none of them were the truth. So what are you here for? Why are you bothering me?"

The brunet tilted his head, his smile passing for friendly if his audience wasn't Shizuo. "But I _have_ said it before. It's not my fault you can't process more than a single thought." He gave a theatrical sigh, leaning back against his chair. "But for _Shizu-chan's_ poor brain, I'll repeat myself. Why did you ask me? Were you so hopeless at your attempts to make friends that you come to _me_?"

Shizuo frowned, because there was something _off_ about that sentence, something which tingled the sense of unease he felt when he saw Izaya laughing at his statement. _"Were you so hopeless at your attempts to make friends that you come to_ _ **me**_ _?"_

 _Oh._

His anger gave out, taken over by a sense of…not exactly pity _(he spent less than a day with him and he already concluded that Orihara Izaya was an A-grade bastard)_ , but understanding which was inspired by his flash of insight. Suddenly, the teen sitting across him was less antagonistic and more…sad.

 _One doesn't need to be cruel to be lonely. It might be that one was lonely, and so became cruel._

"I just thought…" Shizuo looked down at his forgotten lunch, a hand moving up to scratch the back of his head. Not shy or embarrassed, but…unprepared, perhaps. He didn't know what to do in this situation except tell the truth. "Well, you see…I thought you looked lonely, so that's why I asked."

Orihara Izaya blinked, and then laughed again.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

"The world isn't as cruel as you think..." - This is originally a quote from Celty in the second episode of season 1. I love this quote so much, I just HAD to put it here somewhere.

"...and even if it is, it doesn't mean you have to be so." - This little addition is mine. I just thought it would be appropriate.

Btw, I'm going on a camping trip from the 28th to the 31st, and then another camping trip from Feb 5th to 9th, so please understand that there won't be any updates for a while. Thanks! ^_^


	5. The Beginning

_Little by little…_

 _Trickle by trickle…_

 _If the tinkle of a raindrop heralds a storm, what then of a whisper?_

 _A single step off the beaten path is taken_

* * *

Chapter 4: The Beginning

* * *

Orihara Izaya, lonely? _Ha._

What does that brute know?

Amusement tickled him whenever he thought back to that moment in the blond's empty classroom, mirth threatening to bubble up from his throat and released in a laugh as he recalled the words: " _I thought you looked lonely, so that's why I asked."_

 _Ha._ Hahaha!

That was the silliest, most naïve, _stupidest_ reason he had ever heard.

No one does things because they felt _bad_ for others. There was _always_ an ulterior motive. Shinra approached him in middle school because Celty asked him to make friends. Nakura joined their club to start a gambling ring. He himself hung out with them because he was interested in Shinra's blatant disinterest in the ordinary and amusement in Nakura's antics.

No one befriend another person simply because they noticed that the other was _lonely_.

 _(Which he_ _ **wasn't**_ _, by the way.)_

It was such a laughable notion, that Izaya remained laughing as he left the monster's classroom, leaving behind a confused and slightly concerned blond in his wake.

 _So the brute wants to be friends with me because he thinks I'm lonely, hmm?_

Well that was _fine_. If Heiwajima Shizuo didn't want to tell him the _real_ reason then he would just have to find out by himself. Izaya didn't really expect anything else. After all, the had only begun, and it wouldn't be fun if Shizuo forfeited the answer early.

 _(And besides, he isn't lonely. Orihara Izaya simply preferred the solitude of covert, non-participant observation rather than the opposite. After all, why bother be part of mindless crowd, when you can stand apart as a god?)_

* * *

The next day began with Izaya plotting.

As the sun cracked over the horizon, the brunet stood in the kitchen, his hands moving through the practised motions of preparing his sisters' lunches. His mind, however, was a million miles away, whipping up scheme after scheme to further his goals. How does one get an annoyingly unpredictable brute to confess the truth? How would he go about breaking him? How would Shizuo break?

The challenge pulled a smile from his lips.

 _(Mairu likes chicken, while Kururi prefers beef. Neither were fond of vegetables though, and would toss out any greens that went over their bare minimum.)_

 _(Izaya cut the chicken and beef and placed them on the frying pan, before moving on to the leeks and onions.)_

The first thing he should do was to get to know the blond, and find the chinks in his armour. Figure out a way to deconstruct the psyche of a monster. What were his weaknesses? His fears? How would he go about finding them?

The familiar thrill of the beginnings of a plan tingled down his spine, sending faint tremors up his fingers.

 _(Fruits. If his sisters would only eat the bare minimum required to be healthy, then he needed to cover it up with fruits. Both of them liked grapes, but Mairu loved peaches while Kururi favoured strawberries.)_

 _(He took out the grapes, peaches, and strawberries from the fridge and began to cut them up.)_

And what about that temper? That reputedly monstrous strength? He hadn't seen it first hand, and he took the rumours following the blond with a grain of salt. After all, there were some fools who believed that Izaya was, somehow, the long-lost child of Michael Jackson and Yoko Ono. It was much more likely that the stories of him throwing vending machines and the like were exaggeration brought on by fear.

Still, excitement made him tremble in the dawn.

 _(Carefully, he placed the food in their lunchboxes. Mairu's box was black, filled with rice, chicken, vegetables, grapes and peaches. Kururi's box was white, filled with rice, beef, vegetables, grapes and strawberries. For himself though, he prepared none.)_

 _(It wasn't as if he needed lunch anyway.)_

Half an hour later, his sisters stumbled down the stairs of their quiet home, yawning and rubbing sleep off their eyes. They ambled up to their seats, blinking blearily up their brother as he set down their plates and poured syrup over their pancakes. As they ate in the familiar silence of the morning, the twins observed their brother and caretaker.

 _("Iza-nii…happy…" Kururi murmured, clinging to her sister as they watch their brother leave them by their pre-school class.)_

 _("Yeah, it's weird," Mairu nodded, tilting her head as she remembered the smile on his face that morning. "Maybe he finally found a friend.")_

* * *

Izaya brought a video camera to school.

For the most part, he kept it in his black messenger bag. It was neither a new nor old model, but one trapped in-between, capable of capturing hours upon hours of life and had been with him since middle school. It was his birthday gift for himself, bought with the money he won from the gambling rings he organised. He could have used his phone to record videos, but this particular experiment required a personal touch. Besides, for this game, he wanted the records to be as clear as possible, and not the grainy-like quality produced from cell phone camera.

The first usage of the video camera in high school was on lunch that day.

Izaya gleefully hopped onto the desk nearby the field, video camera on hand and recording the ensuing carnage. Smiling, he watched through the camera's lenses as boys after boys from his school rushed to the middle of the field, wielding all sorts of makeshift weapons. Bats, iron bars, the odd knives or two…It was all useless, however, as the blond in the middle—the same boy who extended his friendship to Izaya and therefore captured his interest—torn down the goalpost and used it to swept them away like flies.

 _So the rumours of his strength were true…_

His heart skittered, practically skipping in his chest. The smile on his face widened on its own, and he pulled his eyes away from the camera to witness the sheer violence happening right in front of him without any obstructions from glass. _What is this?_ he wondered, absentmindedly turning off his video camera and setting it aside. _What is this berserker strength? This all-consuming wrath?_ _ **What**_ _is_ _ **he?**_

He should offer up words, a laugh, perhaps even a taunt. All he could do was stared as Shizuo breathed in the aftermath of his rage, standing tall in the wreckage.

And then, he clapped.

What else could he offered to someone who rendered him speechless in his sheer _monstrosity?_

Shizuo's attention snapped to him, jaw set in a firm frown as amber eyes glared at him. For a moment, his heart stuttered, and when it beat again in the next second, it pumped a rapid-fast pace hard enough that his smile widened in response. He set his hands down, setting them by his sides, gripping the edge of the table tightly as if he would jump out of his own skin if he didn't. There, standing right in front of him, was a monster in human skin, and it was all Izaya could do to stop himself from shaking.

As he sat there, staring down at the monster, it felt very much like the ground was swept under his feet, a new reality unfolding right before his eyes. From here on out, normality would forever be redefined.

 _(Evolve, change, or drown in the mundane._ )

And then—

"I don't like you."

"That's too bad," he purred, words spilling out of his grin before he could catch it. "We could have _so_ much fun."

"Tch," the blond's glare intensified. "I should had never asked you to be my friend."

"As if I would accept even if you offered," Izaya drawled, eyes slanted as he leaned forward. "After all, who would want to be friends with a monster?"

And _there._ There—he hit a crack in the other's armour. Shizuo flinched, a brief, small gesture as impactful as being shot by a gun, and Izaya grinned like a shark smelling blood.

"Then why are you here?" Shizuo snapped back, frowning heavily as he clenched his fists.

"Why, I'm just here to observe of course," he smirked as he raised his video camera and waved it playfully with one hand. "It was quite entertaining to watch you beat up those weaker than you so easily. Perhaps I should share this to the world, so that everyone will know what a _monster_ you are."

Amber eyes _(how unnatural; fitting for monsters)_ widened, and _yes_ , Izaya knew he hit upon another crack. His grin remained firmly in place even as Shizuo stalked towards him, like an angry lion cornering his prey. Anticipation trilled up and down his spine, and he had to force himself to blink before he realised that his monster was standing right in front of him.

"Don't you _dare_ ," Shizuo growled down at him.

"Make me," Izaya smirked up at him in open defiance.

With a roar, Shizuo swung his fist down. Before his brain could register the action, his body reacted, and hands which were once gripping the edge of the desk so tightly now pushed him off. Izaya leapt from his seat, adrenaline pumping through him as he heard wood cracking and Shizuo growling. The moment his foot landed on solid ground, he pivoted on his heel and flicked open his switchblade, slashing across the blond's chest and ripping through fabric and skin.

"See?" He said as he took several quick steps back, knife and smile still raised and pointed at the beast clothed in human skin. "Isn't this fun?"

" _I-za-ya-kun!"_ The monster roared, launching himself towards him despite the bleeding wound dripping from his chest.

Izaya turned and ran, laughing as the chase began.

 _(It was the first time he felt alive.)_


	6. Underneath the Underneath

_Everyone has a world inside them_

 _Not just one, or two, or three, but millions upon millions of wondrous worlds_

 _And these millions of worlds…how many have touched them? How many have been blessed to see them?_

 _All these worlds are locked away, hidden deeply in the heart like secret gardens_

 _So is it any wonder that misunderstandings occur?_

 _If only one can glimpse the garden of the heart…_

* * *

Chapter 5: Underneath the Underneath

* * *

Heiwajima Shizuo was no more. Only rage—red, blinding, all-consuming _rage—_ remained.

There was no thought to his actions. _Destroy, destroy, destroy—_ chanted the red haze, urging him to rip out a nearby street sign and hurl it at Izaya's retreating back like a javelin. It missed by an inch, however—the wind from the throw clipping the side of the brunet's cheek, pushing his bangs away just enough for him to catch a glimpse of smirking crimson eyes—and the flea _laughed_ , inciting his rage further.

He couldn't tell where he was going, where Izaya was leading him to, and _he didn't care._ All he knew was that it was somewhere in Ikebukuro—people veering left and right and cutting a wide swathe for him to run through after they saw his _(cursed)_ monstrous strength. They were whispering—a distant part of him noted—and snapping pictures, no doubt perpetuating the rumours surrounding him, furthering the gossip that he was a _monster,_ a _brute,_ a _mindless, short-tempered beast._

Heiwajima Shizuo _hated_ it.

And he hated Orihara Izaya most of all for forcing him to reveal this _(shameful, disgraceful, hateful)_ part of him to the world.

The brunet laughed as he ran, treating this as if it was some kind of _game_ , as if he wasn't ruining Shizuo's life by provoking his anger. _Well, let's see how he laughs when I get him,_ the blond thought darkly as he chased him down an alley. Almost as if sensing his thoughts, Izaya glanced over his shoulder, sending an infuriating smirk as he dashed out into the open streets. The blond followed without a thought, his fury blinding him from anything save his prey.

Then—

He was flying.

It took a moment for him to register everything. The rage was the first to leave him, the red haze dissipated to allow him to see the clear blue sky. Next came pain—sudden and blinding; every bone in his body creaking and cracking in protest as he flew through the air and smacked against the pavement, his back groaning as he bounced back a bit from the impact. Finally, realisation came too late— _I was hit by a truck._

Through a haze of red _(blood, this time, not rage)_ , Shizuo saw striking crimson eyes levelled down at him as _(his prey)_ Orihara Izaya crouched down next to him with a wide smirk.

"Amazing," the brunet said as he took out his video camera and turned it on him, the puddle of blood around Shizuo seeping into the soles of his shoes. "Even a truck wasn't enough to kill you."

" _Flea…"_ Shizuo growled, slowly pushing himself up his elbows despite the complaints of his body.

Izaya blinked, still smiling that same amused smile. "Are you still trying to kill me? How fascinating! How many bones in your body have been broken? How many pints of blood have you lost? You are truly an inhuman _monster_ to survive and still do this."

"I'm not trying to kill you!" Shizuo shouted, angrily swiping the video camera from his hands. Shocked, the brunet reacted too late, and could only watch as the blond crushed it with a fist. Shizuo panted, blinking to clear his eyes of blood even as darkness creep the edges of his vision. "I just don't want you to spread that video. I…don't want to be a monster…"

His body swayed dangerously, the blood loss slowly beckoning him towards unconsciousness.

Still, he mustered up enough concentration to glare at the brunet, a fierce scowl twisting his lips as he said:

"I…don't really…want to…hurt anyone…"

The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was Orihara Izaya unmasked; crimson eyes wide-eyed shocked for once. And the last thing he thought before he could think no more was:

 _He's going to kill me, isn't he?_

* * *

Shizuo didn't expect to wake up at Shinra's.

In fact, he didn't expect to wake up _at all_.

He thought he knew Orihara Izaya. That guy was trouble in human form; too-cunning eyes and too-sharp tongue and too-smart mind. It was a concoction for suffering—a ruined life to whoever dared cross him or invoke his interest. Unfortunately for Shizuo, he had somehow managed the latter, and had paid the price with a truck running over him.

 _(He had thought that Izaya would take the chance to kill him.)_

He hadn't expected to wake up at Shinra's.

"Shizuo-kun, you're awake!" Greeted the cheerful brunet when he entered the white patient's room to check up on him. "How are you feeling? I heard from Orihara-kun that you got run over by a truck."

"Yeah…that sounds about right…" the blond nodded, frowning as he looked around the room. "How did I get here?"

"Ah, Orihara-kun dragged you here." Shinra smiled, chuckling at the memory. "He was complaining the entire way, saying ' _Shizu-chan's so fat', 'How the hell does someone with no obvious muscles get so heavy?', 'Even his weight is a monster',_ and on and on. It's quite funny actually."

"He did?" Shizuo asked, more surprised that Izaya had brought him to Shinra than hearing his complaints. "That doesn't make sense. I got run over by a truck _because_ of him."

"Ah, is that so?" the glasses-wearing brunet stated more than asked, still smiling as he shrugged. "Well, that's Orihara-kun for you. His actions are never clear to anyone but himself, though I think that, sometimes, even _he_ doesn't understand why he does some things."

"Do you think this is one of them?" he asked. "He provoked me and led me straight to an open street where I got hit by a truck, then dragged me here to be treated by you. Who _does_ that!?"

"Like I said, the only one who knows what goes on in Orihara-kun's head is himself," Shinra replied, lifting and poking around the blond's arms and torso to check him. "Yup, seems like you're healing well. You should really give me some blood samples, Shizuo-kun. The things I can do to them…"

Shizuo made a face and jerked his arm away from the teen doctor. "Shinra, you're creepy. And Izaya-kun still doesn't make sense."

"Hmm," the teen doctor shrugged, his cheerful smile still on his face, "I've known Orihara-kun since middle school, but there's still things I don't know about him. Which is probably a good thing, considering all the stuff he gets into," he tilted his head, his smile becoming wider as he raised a finger. "Ah! But there _is_ onething I do know about him. I think you need to know this, if Orihara-kun has taken an interest to you."

Shizuo leaned forward, curious as to what he had to say.

"He may seem cold-blooded, but he is more human, and his heart more brittle than anybody else, so much so that if you filled it with human love or betrayal, it would break easily," Shinra sighs, shaking his head, his smile now more exasperated than cheerful, "Which is why, I think, he chose from the start to avoid it all. To love humanity, you understand? Not to accept, not to face it, but to _avoid_ it."

"But then," Shizuo said, "that means he's trying to run away from himself."

"Yes," Shinra laughed. "He's such a coward he can laugh."

* * *

The next day he was attacked by a gang.

Shizuo didn't really care which gang they came from. To him, they were pretty much the same; just some lowlife thugs or hot-headed kid too arrogant to see straight. The fact that they attacked _him,_ when he had gone out of his way to be a walking danger sign, just showed how idiotic they were. He really, _really_ didn't have time to deal with this shit when he was already late to school.

 _(A red starling clutching an arrow on the side of a jacket—a crest, a symbol of the gang they belonged to. The Flying Arrow then, one of the relatively large gangs in Ikebukuro, though nowhere near_ _influential as the Blue Squares.)_

 _(Not that any of that mattered.)_

Their mere presence was enough to piss him off. And when they spoke, bragging how they were going to defeat the mighty Heiwajima Shizuo and clear their debt, it only provoked the monster inside him. Familiar red haze blanketed his vision before they finished speaking, sending the blond to the berserker-like rage that he loathed for its familiarity.

 _(The small part of him that wasn't consumed by the rage noted their words. 'Clear their debt', they said. This was all panned.)_

 _(By who?)_

Before he knew it, he had ripped out a nearby street pole and used it as some a makeshift bat to hit the nearest three gangsters, knocking them out in an instant. Another tried to sneak up on him, but he spun and smacked him with the steel pole before he could stab him. A couple, seeing their fallen friends, rushed towards him, a war cry spilling out of their months. Shizuo simply punched them to sweet oblivion.

It was over in a matter of minutes.

 _(He lost control._ _**Again** _ _. Damnit! Would the day ever come where he could control his overpowering rage?)_

 _(What was wrong with him?)_

"Oi," he approached the only member who was still conscious. Scowling, he looked down at the whimpering man and growled out his question. "Who told you to do this, huh?"

The man whined in pain, rolling to his side. His eyes creased in pain, and when he spoke, his voice was a feeble gasp. "I…I don't know. He never…never gave his name."

"Then why the fuck did you attack me for some no-name guy?" Shizuo's voice was an angry grumble, the thunder before lightning.

"Owe…a debt. Poker. Our leader loses to much…to him…" the man answered slowly. "Either we pay up…or we lose much more…"

"If it's just one guy, then why don't you just handle him yourself?" the blond crouched down, scowling at him. "Isn't that how you gangs do things?"

"Tried…didn't work…" was his reply, "He has information…we can't let loose…"

 _Ah._

 _So that's why._

"Tch," Shizuo shook his head, "You should have kept your mouth shut then if you don't want your secrets to be used against you."

 _(Ten—Kasuka, kidnapped. Ten—he was powerless despite his strength. Ten—when their mother revealed her past, openly delving into the underworld once more to find her son, his brother. Ten—that was when his mother taught him an important lesson, one that remained to this day.)_

 _("Never forget, Shizu-chan," his mother smiled down upon him, chocolate eyes as sharp as her signature switchblade and yet as warm as the milk she made him whenever he had a nightmare. "Information is power.")_

"Tell me what he looks like then," Shizuo ordered.

The man groaned and whimpered, but a simple press of the blond's foot against his stomach had the gangster babbling away, telling Shizuo a clear description of the one who threw them to the beast. By the end of it, Shizuo's eyes were dark, and his frown had morph into a full-blown scowl. The world took on a hint of red tint, his signature rage simmering in his chest.

"Iiizaaayaaa-kuuun…."he growled under his breath, ignoring the now unconscious man on his feet as he roared to the sky. _"I'm going to destroy you!"_

 _Why did you save me when you wanted to ruin me? Why did you provoke me and then took me somewhere to heal? What are you playing at!?_

 _No matter what, I will not play by your rules._

 _No—you will play by_ _**mine**_ _._

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

 _"_ He may seem cold-blooded, but he is more human, and his heart more brittle than anybody else, so much so that if you filled it with human love or betrayal, it would break easily, which is why, I think, he chose from the start to avoid it all, to love humanity, you understand? Not to accept, not to face it, to avoid it." – Kishitani Shinra, Volume 13

'He's such a coward he can laugh' – This is the name of Izaya's theme in the anime.

'Underneath the Underneath' – Lol, a Naruto reference. But other than that, this is really more about how there's something else lurking beneath the surface. Izaya's didn't have to take Shizuo to Shinra's and yet he did. And what's up with Shizuo's mother, and more than that, why did Shizuo know what gang attacked him when he didn't care much about them? *grins* Let's just say that things will be revealed later.

Btw, from what I've seen in fics, lots of people write Shizuo as this simple, vending-machine throwing guy who yells _"IIIIZAAAAYAAA!"_ a lot. While he _does_ do that, I believe he's much more intelligent than he seems, and it's Canon that when no enraged, Shizuo is actually a pretty quiet, if slightly socially awkward guy who is very perceptive and accepting. And in Durarara SH, it's stated that he originally wanted to be a detective like Sherlock Holmes. :D Ah, I just love his character. I can only hope I did his character justice in this fic.

One last thing, I'm pretty much writing this on the fly. I mean, sure, I have a general outline and ending planned out, but lots of details shift and change in the writing. So even I don't know what going to happen next until I write it. ^_^ This makes me as excited for the next chapter as you guys!


	7. Peace Offering

_Things changed._

 _Nothing remains immutable forever. Nothing stays the same for always._

 _Once a path is taken, the road back becomes covered in mist, gone from sight and muted from memory._

 _And so it goes that when the door behind you closes, the curtain in front of you rises to reveal a new stage._

 _There's no turning back now._

* * *

Chapter 6: Peace Offering

* * *

"You!" Shizuo snarled, standing up so abruptly that his chair was knocked back.

Izaya simply grinned impishly, raising the hand that wasn't holding a plastic bag to wave innocently at him.

"What's wrong, Shizu-chan?" He purred, making his way from the doorway to seat himself in front of the blond casually, infuriatingly calm in the face of Shizuo's brewing rage. "Did you woke up at the wrong side of the bed? Or…" the brunet looked up, smile dragged wider and eyes slanted _just so_ to reflect knowing amusement, "…did you had a run-in with the wildlife control department?"

"Fucking louse!" Shizuo leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table as he glared down the brunet. "You set a gang on me! _Why!?"_

"Isn't it obvious?" Izaya tilted his head, giving the same condescending smile a teacher would give to a particularly trying, ignorant student. "Feral dogs should be taken to the pound or put down."

 _That's it!_

Shizuo roared as he lifted the table over his head, prepared to smack the annoying flea to oblivion with it. Izaya jumped out of his seat, eyes narrowing and pupils dilating as his smirk was pulled wider, his switchblade flicked open and pointed at the blond. The familiar red haze crept up his vision, blanketing the world with whispers of violence and _destroy, destroy, destroy._ But just as he was about to throw the table at the louse—

Something clattered to the ground.

Shizuo blinked, the red haze that regularly blinded him receding enough for him to see what fell. A blue lunchbox laid on its side, white rice spilled across the tiles whilst meat and vegetables were scattered here and there. His heart fell, and he tossed the table aside to crouch down and tried to clean up his mess.

His mother had made his lunch, waking up early despite her busy nightly schedule to cook something up for her sons. Cheerfully, she would add extra helpings for her eldest son, optimistically saying, _"The way to the heart is through the stomach. If you share your lunch with someone, I'm sure you can find many friends!"_

Personally, he found her too hopeful, but she meant well and it only served to drive the guilt deeper.

 _Is there anything I don't mess up?_

It was fortunate that Izaya wasn't, for some reason, speaking. If he did, if he reminded him that he was here right now, Shizuo couldn't promise that it wouldn't end in violence. And he _hated_ violence, hated it with a passion most couldn't believe. If only he was normal like everyone else, then maybe he wouldn't have to feel the constant shame that came along with his inhuman strength.

Even though Shizuo actively tried to ignore the brunet in favour of cleaning up his spilled lunch, he heard more than saw Izaya approached him. He bit his lip, struggling to keep the red haze at bay by focusing on the blue lunchbox in his lap. Izaya was _so close_ —crouching down in front of him to look at him curiously—and it would be _so easy_ to reach out and snap his scrawny little neck.

 _(No, no, no, he didn't want to kill, didn't even want to hurt anyone. He hated violence, that was no lie. And even though he wanted to beat the shit out of the fucking louse, he never wanted to hurt Izaya to the point of permanently breaking him.)_

 _(If only he could control his strength. If only he could control his temper. If only…)_

 _(If only he wasn't himself.)_

"What are you doing?" Izaya asked, and it may be Shizuo's imagination, but he sounded _offended._

"You have eyes don't you?" Shizuo growled, keeping his attention on the spilled rice and scattered food. "What do you _think_ I'm doing?"

Because he was focused on his ruined lunch, Shizuo didn't see the frown marring the brunet's face. _"Why?"_ Izaya asked.

" _Because,"_ the blond grumbled, his brows creasing as he scowled, looking down at the floor and picking up rice, "it's the right thing to do. If you break something, you fix it. If you made a mess, you clean it up. _Duh._ "

Izaya went quiet, but Shizuo didn't dare to look up lest his tenuous grasp on his rage would slip. Instead, he looked away, glancing at the table he had tossed aside and groaning when he saw it lying on its side in front of the board, its legs looking very close to breaking.

Standing up, he continued to ignore the brunet and placed his lunchbox on a nearby table. He heard Izaya moving, but ignored him in favour of making his way to his table. With his strength, it was only too easy for him to lift it up and gently placed it back in its place.

Once that was done, he looked at his lunch and sighed. It was undoubtedly ruined now. As if his heart was squeezed, he felt guilt and shame smothering him in its deep waves. His mother had spent much time and care in making it for him, and now it was ruined because of him.

"Are you _really_ that hungry?" Izaya piped up, incredulity lacing his tone. Shizuo didn't need to look to imagine the sneer painted across his face. "How interesting. So without food you can't muster up the strength to rage like the monster that you are? If so, then maybe you should starve for all of our safety."

"Shut _up._ " Shizuo grumbled, pointedly ignoring the brunet by glaring at the window. Outside, their peers played and laughed in the sun.

For a moment, there was blessed silence, and then: "Tch," he didn't look back and so didn't see Izaya crossing his arms in irritation, frowning at his lack of reaction. The brunet threw the plastic bag he had been carrying at the blond's table, before turning his back to him and walking away.

"Eat that," he said over his shoulder. "You're not fun like this."

Only after he heard the door slid shut did Shizuo shifted his gaze from the window to the bag. Frowning, he poked it warily, not at all surprised if Izaya had given him a bomb or something similar. When nothing happened, he inspected the bag closer and took out its content.

It was a melon bread.

 _I really don't get what goes on in his mind._

It was most likely coincidence, but it was _nice_ of Izaya to give Shizuo something sweet.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

I'm trying to update twice a week now. The problem though, is that I'll most likely be posting less words per update than I would have if I update once a week. On the other hand, you get more updates from me, so I guess that's fair

On an unrelated note, Izaya is _such_ a tsundere. Seriously, can't you ever say something straight up? (゜▽゜;)


	8. The Reasons Why

_Reflected in the mirror; who is that?_

 _I am here. You are there._

 _In the mirror, beyond the reflection; here we are_

 _The you standing before me is like the me standing before you._

* * *

Chapter 7: The Reasons Why

* * *

 **[WEEK 1]**

Shizuo wasn't sure when it happened, or even _how,_ but he found himself settling into a routine.

It went like this: in the morning, either on his way to school or in the courtyard in front of it, some gang or boys from neighbouring schools would attack him. He would get angry, retaliate, and generally thrash them and the area. Then he would go to class, where his angry glares and glowers frightened the teachers and students into tense silence for the entire period. After that would be break time, which he used to track down Izaya and chase him around as revenge for the morning's attack. He never caught him, however, and always returned to class with a figurative storm cloud over his head.

And then there was lunch.

The first time Izaya approached him during lunch was a day after their first meeting, and it ended with the brunet laughing as he left. The second time was after he had first set a gang on him, and Shizuo almost threw a table at him if he wasn't distracted by his spilled lunch. That particular incident ended, to Shizuo's bewilderment, with Izaya throwing a melon bread at him and leaving with a huff.

It didn't end there.

Every day, without fail, Izaya would come to his lonely classroom during lunch and harass him. Shizuo would growl and threaten him with bodily harm, but the brunet always laughed it off, and even had the audacity to throw back a jeering taunt or two. If it weren't for certain things—little ticks which threw him off—the blond would have destroyed the classroom by now.

Things like:

The lack of proper lunch.

 _("I don't need someone to cook my lunch." Izaya smirked. "I'm not a child like you.")_

 _{"Don't need or don't have?" Shizuo snapped back harshly, irritated. The few beats of silence that followed before the brunet replied answered his question.}_

The melon breads.

 _(Izaya looked at him curiously, grinning widely as he saw him ate his pudding. "Who knew that the monster have a sweet tooth?")_

 _("Shut up." Shizuo growled, the anger simmering in his chest barely kept at bay by his favourite food.")_

 _(Izaya laughed; that annoying, high-pitched laughter that seemed designed to specifically annoy him. He was sorely tempted to throw the table at him, but grudgingly discarded the idea as not worthy of ruining his pudding.)_

 _(The next day, Izaya tossed a melon bread on top of his table. When asked why, the brunet smirked and said. "Think of it as my safety insurance, Shizuo-chan.")_

Shinra's words.

 _("_ _He may seem cold-blooded, but he is more human, and his heart more_ _brittle than anybody else, so much so that if you filled it with human love or betrayal, it would break easily," Shinra sighs, shaking his head, his smile now more exasperated than cheerful, "Which is why, I think, he chose from the start to avoid it all. To love humanity, you understand? Not to accept, not to face it, but to_ _ **avoid**_ _it.")_

 _(And sometimes, Shizuo felt that he could understand where Shinra was coming from. Times like that often occurred during Izaya's rare moments of silence, when he would look at the courtyard with a smile painted over his face.)_

 _(It was a mask though, even Shizuo could tell that much.)_

 _I don't get what goes on in his mind at all._

He absently listened as Izaya chattered on and on about this and that, occasionally taunting him with a smirk. By now, the familiar red haze which usually preceded his violence had taken a constant place around the edges of his vision, ready to sweep in at a moment's notice. Yet it never overwhelmed him during their lunch together, this strange ceasefire brought about by either Izaya's incessant curiosity or Shizuo's need for any companionship, even annoying ones. Part of it was because of the odd slips and quirks that kept throwing him off, the little cracks in the brunet's smiling façade that hinted of something deeper. But it was also due to the daily exposure to his annoyingness wearing him out. Constant, unrelenting anger was tiring to maintain.

Another reason was:

"Hey," Izaya poked his arm relentlessly, grinning widely as he saw a vein bulge on Shizuo's forehead. "Have you heard? Chihiro-kun is going to confess to Sakuya-chan today."

"So?" Shizuo answered gruffly, valiantly trying to ignore Izaya by focusing on his lunch. The melon bread Izaya gave him as his 'insurance' _(damn him for discovering his weakness!)_ was set aside on the table, to be eaten only after the brunet had pushed him to his breaking point. "I'm not interested in petty gossip."

"Ah, but you should!" Izaya smirked, leaning back against his chair with an air of condescending superiority. "Don't you know, Shizu-chan? Information is power!"

The blond gritted his teeth, more because of his words rather than his patronizing tone. _"Never forget, Shizu-chan,"_ his mother had said a long time ago, with a smile as sharp as a knife and eyes as warm as her embrace whenever he cried. _"Information is power."_

Those words, his nickname…only his mother could say them.

Shizuo _hated_ Izaya.

But…

"So what?" The blond shot back. "What's the point of knowing all that useless information?"

"That's where you're wrong, Shizu-chan!" The brunet laughed, "All information is important, because the right titbits is worth _so_ much. It's _power,_ Shizu-chan," He smirked, crimson eyes gleaming sharp, "And when it comes to humans, their actions become so much more interesting when it involves power."

"Of course, it's not just power," Izaya continued, leaning forward and folding his arms over the table, the wide grin on his face seemingly indicating an eagerness to share a big secret. His words broke the innocent façade though. "Love. Of all human motivators, that is the greatest and most dangerous of all. When a human is in love their actions become both predictable and unpredictable. It's easy to tell that all the things they do will be for their beloved, but their exact actions—the lengths and depths they're willing to go through for this abstract concept they can't touch or see—now _that's_ fascinating."

His ensuing laughter sounds more like a witch's cackle to Shizuo's ears. "Do you know? I heard that stalkers don't realise their stalking. Apparently, they believe they're 'protecting'. Isn't that interesting? How the values we are taught to tote high can warp and twist a human's mind and change their behaviours and morals?"

Izaya snickered, "It's interesting! Humans are so interesting!" Crimson eyes slanted, mouth twisted upwards to one side, Izaya proclaimed. "That's why I love them. I love humanity. You can search the whole world and never find another species as interesting as humans. That's why I love humans!"

"And that's why _they_ should love _me_."

His gaze slid sideways, to the courtyard where their peers played and laughed and lived. His smile remained firmly affixed in the shape of a smirk, red gaze as sharp as a knife. But Shizuo knew—from what he had seen, from the things Shinra said, and from the days he was forced to bear his presence—that it was a mask, a façade to maintain his distance, a lie he created in fear of being hurt. And it pissed Shizuo off.

He _hated_ cowards.

 _(What a hypocrite.)_

It may be cruel, but he wanted nothing more than to rip that mask off.

 _(Isn't that mask suffocating? Isn't it heavy? How can you bear it?)_

 _(How can you do it when I can't?)_

" _Bullshit,_ " Shizuo stated, frowning as he met Izaya's gaze head on, "You don't love humans. You're _afraid_ of them."

And _there_ —a crack in the ever-present mask. Shizuo felt a vicious stab of schadenfreude joy, a bite of malicious enjoyment at seeing Izaya's grin teetered off a little wider, pulling a bit bigger in an attempt to hide, to _run away._ Izaya still held his gaze, his eyes squinted in the expression of amusement, but the gleam in his eyes were colder, showing a hint of ruthless threat for him to _back off._

Frankly speaking, it only served to thrum the pounding in his ears, the sound of his heartbeat steadily rising into a deafening crescendo. A thin film of red covered his gaze, but it did not overpower him for once. No, it came in anticipation of _something_ , an excitement that sent a thrill down his spine instead of the familiar white-hot explosion of rage.

 _So this is what you truly are,_ Shizuo thought, staring down that crack in the otherwise impenetrable façade, _You're like me. A monster. Nothing like them at all._

Like met like, a monster met its kin, and in that moment—brought about by a flash of intuitive insight—Shizuo felt _peace._

 _(One doesn't need to be cruel to be lonely. It might be that one was lonely, and so became cruel.)_

"What do you know?" Izaya sneered, his smirk firmly in place. The threat in his eyes remained clear, however, and it is that which reminded the blond of what he gleaned from the temporary break in his mask, "Is Shizu-chan suddenly an expert on humans?"

"No," Shizuo replied bluntly, "But I know enough about monsters."

The brunet drew back, pushing against the table to lean casually against the back of his chair. Now that Shizuo's full attention was on him, however, he caught the flinch Izaya tried to hide. The discomfort the other vainly tried to mask brought a grin to Shizuo, though the blond forced his lips to turn down in a scowl.

"Whatever are you talking about, Shizu-chan?" Izaya tilted his head, grinning as if he had no idea what the other was saying, " _You're_ the monster here. I'm one hundred percent pure, genuine _human_."

"If you say so," he shrugged, and he let a bit of his happiness show as a small, soft smile. Shizuo had always been rather terrible in lying. "It's just…isn't it interesting?"

The crease of his brows caused the brunet's eyes to slant in confusion, the curve of his smile diminishing into a straight line. For once, Izaya was rendered silent, a rare feat that made Shizuo's smile turn a little bit wider.

"I may have the body of a monster, but you certainly have the mind of one," he laughed humourlessly, "What a pair we make, don't you agree?"

The ringing of the bell saved Izaya from answering and signified the end of their strange truce. As the brunet stood up and made his way to the door, his crimson gaze pierced him with the full brunt of his hatred.

"I hate you," Izaya said, back facing him and head turned just enough for the blond to see angry rouge eyes and a firm scowl. "I utterly, completely _despise_ you, monster."

Shizuo faced him with a wide grin, a lion's fangs bared. "The feeling is fully mutual, _monster._ "

Izaya turned away, the tenseness of his back hiding the suggestion of a flinch. Shizuo felt both vicious elation and niggling guilt. Elation; for causing a crack in one of the many masks the brunet wore. Guilt; because he knew how it hurt to have someone call you _monster_ , to point out the truth behind the difference between you and the rest of humanity.

 _But you're here. And I'm here. There's no need to be alone anymore._

He looked down at his lunchbox, at the bento his mother lovingly made. Maybe…maybe, for once, she was right. Maybe it really was possible for a monster like him to befriend another, even if it was with another monster.

He heard the door slid close, and in the emptiness of the room, Shizuo smiled.

Because even though the classroom was silent and devoid of any presence except him, he no longer felt lonely anymore.

And _that_ —

That was the other reason he kept this peculiar truce.


	9. Intermission - Moonlit Meeting

_Moonlight hides so much_

 _Moonshine conceals so much_

 _Hide, hide, hide_

 _Here beneath the silver luminance, two shadows meet._

* * *

Intermission – Moonlit Meeting

* * *

 **[WEEKEND 1]**

Izaya _hated_ Shizuo.

Humans were predictable. Calculable. They were line numbers and symbols in an equation. Simply string them together and start the algorithm; the answer was sure to follow. And Izaya was _good_ at guessing the answer, at removing himself from the equation so that he could observe objectively. _Excellent,_ in fact. Sometimes, the occasional outlier would shake up the equations and he would be thrilled, but the outcome was still—if not predictable—within the realm of possibility.

Shizuo was a complete _impossibility._

From his herculean strength to his hair-trigger temper; nothing about him screamed human. The opposite, actually. He oozed danger from his pores, rage running red through his veins and bleached blond hair a distinct warning sign for all. A lion amongst sheep. A beast, _a monster._ As much as Izaya was interested in studying and deconstructing his psyche, he felt an important obligation to destroy him.

It was, after all, the shepherd's duty to guard his flock.

And yet…

 _("I may have the body of a monster, but you certainly have the mind of one," Shizuo laughed humorlessly. "What a pair we make, don't you agree?"_

Izaya _hated_ Shizuo.

Who was he to tell him that? He was a stupid, single-celled Neanderthal. What does _he_ know about the differences between humanity and monsters?

 _(Amber eyes gazed at him, calm, serene,_ _ **infuriatingly accepting**_ _. "I know enough about monsters.")_

Izaya _hated_ Shizuo.

 _("The feeling is fully mutual," Shizuo returned, but the words lack a certain edge, a bite that, with it gone, turned the words into something resembling kindness.)_

 _(Why did he smile like that at_ _ **him**_ _? Why did he look so sincere, so_ _ **happy**_ _?)_

 _I don't understand what he's thinking at all._

Shizuo was more than unpredictable. He was impossible, a wild card in his carefully arranged deck, an extraneous variable interfering his controlled experiments. No human was able to do that, and so Shizuo, with all his impossibility, must be a _monster._

 _(_ _"_ _ **You're**_ _the monster here._ _ **I'm**_ _one hundred percent pure, genuine_ _ **human**_ _.")_

Monsters needed to be killed.

 _(Who was he to tear down his carefully crafted masks? Who was he to see through his façade like it was a thin film of mist? Who was he to look at him and_ _ **smile**_ _, as if accepting everything that he was—even the parts Izaya rejected?)_

 _(How_ _ **dare**_ _someone like Shizuo exists!)_

* * *

The cool night air felt refreshing after hours in the smoky bar.

Izaya grinned to himself, stepping out of the bar's glaring neon lights to walk into one of the many dark alleys strewn across the city. His hand gently patted his black messenger bag, which was filled to the brim with his illicit earnings, its mundane appearance making it a perfect vessel to hide the cash he won from the gambling ring he often participated in. With his youthful looks, the brunet looked more like a lost school boy who wandered into the city's underbelly, but those who judged him as easy prey would soon find out the business end of his switchblade.

 _This should be enough for the house._

 _Now all I have to focus on is Mairu and Kururi's fees._

He nodded to himself, feeling remarkably cheerful after winning several rounds of poker. This was what he needed, something to reassure himself that his skill at aggravating dangerous people and still come out on top intact, especially after an infuriating week with an oddly calm Shizuo. Oh sure, the blond still grumbled and chased him, but it lacked the certain bite his beastly rage gave. Instead of thrashing and throwing furniture at him, the monster had taken to talking back at him, snapping and snarking and unearthing things Izaya rather left buried, digging his grubby little paws at all the weak points he could find, widening the cracks and ripping out all his—

 _Enough._

 _I am_ _ **not**_ _going to think about the brute. Nope. No way. Nuh uh._

Good mood effectively ruined, Izaya grumbled to himself and kicked a pebble. The intense neon lights from behind him casted long shadows, darkening his scowl. Hands in his pockets, the brunet kicked another rock and wondered the benefits of throwing out the towel now.

 _No. I don't give up. I never lost at any games I play, and this is no different._

 _So what if he's not playing by my rules? I'll just force him to. I'll win no matter what it takes._

With a determined nod, he decided that it was time for him to step up the game.

As he was about to leave the alleyway, a voice called out to him. "Nakura-kun!"

Izaya stopped, and upon recognizing the voice, sighed. With his back facing the speaker, he drawled in the best haughty tone he could muster. "Ah, _Benihime-san_ , to what do I owe this displeasure?"

"Now, now, _Nakura-kun,_ " the woman replied, purring out his pseudonym in the same way he did hers. He couldn't hear her footsteps as she approached, but then if he heard she would have made a very poor ex-assassin. "Is that any way to greet your elders?"

Sensing there was no way out of this until he gave her what she wanted, Izaya turned and faced her with a smile, his usual arrogant mask firmly in place. In return, the brown-haired woman greeted him with a congenial smile of her own. Her long hair was tied into a braid and swept over one shoulder, arms crossed under her chest and back leaning casually against the wall. In the luminance of the moonlight, her smile turned into a smirk, her chocolate-brown eyes tinted a silvery hue.

"Ah, excuse me," he gave her a mock bow, eliciting small laughter from her, "I was never taught to be polite to people I couldn't stand."

"So rude…" she shook her head, more exasperated than irritated. Pushing herself off the wall, she stepped towards him. "How are you doing, Nakura-kun? I haven't seen you around for a while."

"I _do_ have more things to do than play cards every night," Izaya replied smoothly.

She tilted her head, the smirk curving down into a small frown. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that the underground freelancer was _concerned_.

"If only you were 'busy' every day," she sighed, clever chocolate eyes soft, "Kids like you should be enjoying their life, not hanging out in places like this."

"Who says I'm not enjoying it?" Izaya smirked. "I must say, it was fun to see you throw out Ran Izumii."

'Benihime' huffed, smiling ruefully. "I wouldn't need to do that if you didn't harass him."

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" The brunet chuckled.

She shook her head, gazing at him with eyes so soft; it briefly reminded him of Shizuo. The moonlight gave her chocolate eyes a silvery shine, but he could easily see it turn golden in the sunlight. The momentary reminder of his current headache gave him another reason to loathe her.

"You have a twisted sense of fun," she said, as blunt as ever, "Either that, or you're an adrenaline junkie. Can't decide which is worse."

"That's the last thing someone like _you_ should say to me, Mrs. Hitwoman," he teases, drawing out the title until it became an insult.

She shrugged, easily dismissing his jab as if it was a wave lapping a beach. "True. With my past, it _is_ pretty hypocritical of me to tell you what you should and shouldn't do. But that's why I'm telling you, because I've been to the places where you've been," chocolate eyes slanted sideways, mouth tipping into a sad smile, "And the places where you'll be, if you continue doing this."

"I can survive without you looking over me," Izaya was quick to point out, something which he _refused_ to admit as irritation simmering in his chest. To acknowledge that her words, her actions, her _care_ was frustrating him would mean admitting that she had the ability to get under his skin. And _no one_ could do that, much less touch Izaya's composure.

 _(And yet, look at Shizuo.)_

Her mouth twisted into a firm line, and she glanced away, gazing up at the moon, at the starless night, before sighing, tension relaxing from her shoulders, and shook her head again. When she moved her gaze to meet his, her chocolate brown eyes were _(infuriatingly, aggravatingly, impossibly)_ accepting _._

"If you say so," the underground freelancer replied amicably, smiling softly, kindly _(Who was she to smile like that?)_. She stepped around him, sleeves almost brushing past his. At the mouth of the alleyway, she stopped and turned, tilting her head as she said. "You know, I have a son around your age."

"My condolences for your child," Izaya drawled mockingly.

She sighed, more exasperated than truly annoyed, "If you ever meet him, I think you two can become great friends."

"Friendships are for the mundane," he dismissed her words, "I love humanity, but I will not stand with them."

"You two are so alike," she laughed wryly, turning on her heel and waving over her shoulder, "You know, you should come over to my place someday. I'll introduce you two. I'm sure you'll like him."

"No thanks," he repeated the same answer he gave at the end of each of their meetings. "I don't need anyone. I _never_ needed anyone."

She turned her head, revealing a small, sad smile and chocolate eyes that briefly flashed amber in the passing car lights, and left without further words.

 _(And yet it echoed there anyway, lingering in the spaces within the night, hidden under the shadows of the moonlight, in the places Izaya feared to look: "Yes, you do.")_

Izaya _hated_ her.

If Izaya didn't owe her so much—if she hadn't helped him out and watched out for him during his early days in Ikebukuro's underground—he would have stopped at nothing to dig out every little secrets she hid and absolutely _ruin_ her for treating him as if he was another boy, another _human._

 _(Who was she to look at him and_ _ **smile**_ _, as if accepting everything that he was—even the parts Izaya rejected?)_

As it was, he restrained himself from even finding out her true name.


	10. The Way to the Heart

_A kind word, genuine amazement, sincere gestures_

 _Small things. Little things. Easily overlooked_

 _Never unimportant though. Never inconsequential_

 _A little kindness, a bit of concern…_

 _For a thing to be lovable, it must first be loved._

* * *

Chapter 8: The Way to the Heart

* * *

 **[WEEK 2]**

"I think," Shizuo said over dinner, "I made a friend."

Immediately, all movements ceased. Two pairs of brown eyes stared at him unblinkingly, before his mother dropped her bowl on the table and pushed back her chair, leaning sideways to reach over and hugged him. Embraced tightly in her arms, he could feel the mark of her grin against his shoulder, and looking over her head, Shizuo could see the small smile pull his lips upwards.

 _(Perhaps it was because he and their mother emote so openly that Kasuka appeared stoic in contrast, but they all know that a smile like that was the equivalent of a big hug.)_

"Who is it?" their mother, Heiwajima Namiko, excitedly asked, pulling back just enough for him to see her wide grin. "What's their name? What are they like? _Oooh,_ I'm so glad for you, Shizu-chan!"

He ducked his head, cheeks flaring red, inordinately shy. This was the same response she gave when he told her that he befriended a senior during middle school. She was so happy to hear it, that she didn't mind helping her son bleach his hair. It made him a bit embarrassed, to be honest, but also relieved and glad at seeing how the simplest accomplishments in his life made her happy.

 _(Even if it was little, she always celebrated with such gusto that Shizuo's self-loathing couldn't touch him at that moment.)_

From the other end of the table, he saw Kasuka leaned forward in interest.

"His name is Orihara Izaya," Shizuo answered, "He's an annoying louse, setting gangs on me every morning, cackling away while I chase him during break, and taunting me during lunch. He even had a truck run over me three days after we met. Kept harassing me at school too. I think it's because he wants me to lose my temper. Honestly, he's such a pain to deal with."

Kasuka raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like something a friend would do."

The blond shrugged, absently stirring the rice in his bowl with his chopsticks. "I don't think he considers me a friend…"

"But you want him to?" Their mother asked, returning to her seat properly and giving him an inquisitive look.

Shizuo looked down at his meal and nodded shyly, murmuring. "He's just like me. Different," amber eyes slid sideways, avoiding their gazes as he mumbled out, "A monster."

"Shizu-chan…" their mother sighed, warm chocolate eyes gentle and smile soft. "Don't call yourself that. Just because you have incredible strength does _not_ mean you are a monster," her gaze shifted downwards, at her reflection on the glass. The kind smile gained a tint of ruefulness. "Besides, I've seen real monsters, and you're not one of them."

"Mom is right," Kasuka added, the middle-schooler looking at him with an expression that may seem apathetic to an outsider but caring to those who knew him, "They just don't see what we can see."

The blond looked up from his rice bowl, staring at his family, before a small, shy smile broke out. "Thanks, Mom, Kasuka."

His mother beamed at him, grinning so wide her eyes were squinted. Kasuka was much more reserved in comparison, giving him a small smile. Coming from his normally stoic younger brother that felt like a hug and a pat on the back.

"So," the brunette woman returned back to the topic at hand, chin on her hand and braid swinging over a shoulder, "Shizu-chan wants to be friends with this Orihara Izaya kid but doesn't know how to do it?"

The blond nodded quietly.

"Right then!" The brunette leaned back, her thumb pressed against her chest as she declared. "Leave it to your mother! I know just the thing to make him like you."

 _(In hindsight, following her advice was either the best thing he did or the absolute worst.)_

* * *

The next day, Shizuo brought two lunchboxes to school.

Both homemade bento were almost ruined on his way to Raijin High, as the now daily gang attack in the morning had nearly made him spilled the boxes. Thankfully, his mother had foresaw it _(he had been complaining about the recent increase in assaults)_ and wrapped the lunchboxes extra tight, making sure that not even a five-story drop would be enough to crack it. This was the only reason Shizuo didn't cause more damage to the gang attacking him that day.

 _(Today's gang was the Jyan Jakka Jyan*. Odd name aside, they were a large group, Shizuo knew, and almost as influential as the Red Hounds back in their heyday. Yet they were being absorbed into the Awakusu-kai, and their power slowly waned as the Dragon Zombies and Blue Squares rose to prominence.)_

As was now routine, he arrived at school in a foul mood, metaphorical storm cloud hovering over his head and darkening everything. The mood remained dark until break, scaring his classmates and teachers as usual, until it was time for him to chase Izaya across the school hall. At the end of the period, he stormed out of class and easily sniffed the brunet out, leaving the lunchboxes in his class. No one would dare mess with his stuff anyway.

As usual, Izaya ran away laughing, but at least the thrill of the chase was enough to used up some of the leftover rage from the morning's assault. When Shizuo returned to class, he was still somewhat irritated, but noticeably calmer as well. The entire class and teachers collectively sighed a breath of relief.

When lunch rolled around though, Izaya didn't come.

Shizuo frowned as he glanced at the clock in front of the class, right on top of the whiteboard. The clock read 12.45, and their lunch ended at 1.20 p.m. Idly, he tapped a finger against the table, looking out the window and scowling at his reflection. It had been five minutes since lunch began, and yet there were still no signs of his current headache and probable friend _(or, at the very least, frenemy)_.

Typically, Izaya headed straight to his class once lunch started.

 _Maybe he got side-tracked…?_

His gaze slid down from the window to the lunchboxes, still stacked on top of one another inside a plastic bag. It was possible that the brunet had someone else to harass, but given how he had pretty much been tormenting him with his presence during lunch made it seem unlikely to him. Besides, who else here would be more interesting than a monster in human flesh? If there was anyone like that, Shizuo would pity the person for attracting Izaya's attention.

 _I'll give him five more minutes,_ the blond decided, glaring at the clock as if he could make time move faster by sheer will alone.

It felt like an eternity before the clock ticked 12.50.

* * *

 _Izaya,_ he thought as he climbed the stairs to the rooftop, plastic bag containing the lunchboxes dangling in his hand, _have a distinctive scent._

Izaya's scent, just like everything else about him, was an abnormality. Everyone else's scent was normal, catchable in close distance but faded into nothingness with time and space. It wasn't as if Shizuo had an incredible sense of smell either. Unlike his strength and temper, his sense of smell was average. Normal. It was Izaya's scent that was strange.

 _(He didn't understand how no one had commented on it yet.)_

Fire—that was what the crimson-eyed brunet smelled like. Not smoke or gasoline or any other things commonly associated with it, but pure, undiluted _fire._ Something white-hot and searing, purifying and destroying, and cleansing and tainting everything it touched in a flurry of flames. It prickled something in his sense, making him uncomfortable by its fierceness and unfamiliarity, another reason why Shizuo had disliked Izaya on sight.

 _Red eyes,_ Shizuo thought, _fit him perfectly._

 _(It must be something in Izaya that was odd, because he never experienced this with anyone else. Not his mother, not his brother, nor the two friends he had in elementary and middle school. Shizuo's strangeness was limited to his monstrous strength, unstoppable rage, and the rare glimpses of transparent, colourless strings intertwining and connecting and tangling people's lives.)_

He pushed the door open, clear blue sky greeting him as he stepped out onto the rooftop. A mild breeze blew his way, carrying a hint of spring in the air. In the distance, beyond the fences railing the edges, the courtyard spread out, a few trees sprawled here and there retaining a hint of pale pink despite the peak cherry blossom season being over. As he stepped forward, the door swung shut behind him, and the blond looked left and right for signs of the brunet.

He tilted his head up, breathed, and _there—_ a hint of fire amongst the cherry blossoms.

Following the distinct scent, he rounded the rooftop and headed to the back areas, where there should be some benches for students or staff to enjoy their break in the sun. The area however, was empty save for two brunets, one of which Shizuo was familiar with. Izaya had his back towards him, facing the other brunet, and even though the blond couldn't see his expression from where he stood, he could still tell that Izaya was smirking, sneering at the boy in front of him with condescending amusement, given that he had spent enough time with the crimson-eyed teen to know his body language.

"Nakura-kun," Izaya purred, amusement and arrogance so heavy Shizuo could practically taste it, "Whatever do you mean, 'return my money'? As far as both of us are concerned, you lost it fair and square."

"B-but that's not _my_ money!" The other brunet, Nakura, shrieked, panic clear in his wide eyes, "I need it back! If I don't get it back, the Dragon Zombies are going after my head!"

"You borrowed money from a biker gang?" Izaya tilted his head, affecting an air of mock concern, "Sorry, but I don't see how that concerns me. You should know better than to make deals with such shady people in the first place."

"Gaaah!" Nakura threw his arms up in frustration, pointing an accusing finger at the smirking teen. "I should have _never_ approached you in the first place. Why the hell did I thought knowing you would be a good idea!? All you do is ruin _my life!"_

Izaya took it all calmly, even chuckling in the face of the other's anger. "If you want to blame anyone, blame your past self. What will blaming me do but prove that you are a fool to begin with?"

"You- _you-!"_ His arms were flailing, grasping and fisting as if unsure whether to punch the crimson-eyed teen, cry, or run away. Seeing Nakura's pathetic reactions and Izaya's aloofness made Shizuo pursed his lips into a tight line.

The blond walked straight towards them, calling out clearly. "Oi! What's going on here?"

The cowardly brunet, Nakura, jumped, turning on his heel in wide-eyed shock at his arrival. "He-Heiwajima Shizuo!" he stammered, "What are you doing here?"

"I got business with the flea," he replied, tilting his head towards Izaya. "Mind giving us some space?"

"I-yes! Of course!" Nakura acquiesces hastily, throwing a quick look over his shoulder at Izaya as he left. "We're not done yet!"

When Shizuo was sure he had left, the blond turned towards the remaining brunet with a question. "What was that all about?"

Izaya shrugged, smiling as if he doesn't have a care in the world. "Just business," he answered, sing-song.

"Business, huh? Involving gambling?" Shizuo shook his head as he took seat on one of the benches stretched out across the rooftop. Gently laying the plastic bag on them, he looked up at the brunet with a frown. "You know, you shouldn't be dealing with stuff like that. It's really dangerous, and may one day get you killed."

"Aw, is Shizu-chan concerned for little old me?" Izaya teased, laughing at his worry. He remained standing where he was, refusing to take a seat next to him. "Don't be. I'm more than enough to handle all the monsters that go bump in the dark."

The blond rolled his eyes, the words slipping out candidly before he could rethink them. "Every monster except the one that you are."

Izaya stilled, looking at him. Once again, Shizuo felt a chill slip down his spine, sending tingles of thrill up and down his veins as those scarlet eyes turned cold. The brunet smile remained intact, but the gleam in his eyes spoke of how well his comment had hit. Once again, Shizuo was reminded of the reason why he no longer tried to seriously kill him.

 _You're like me. Different. A monster._

"I don't know what you're saying, Shizu-chan." The brunet purred, his voice misleading soft, like silk hiding steel. "The only monster I see here is _you_."

"Then maybe you need to look at a mirror," Shizuo snapped back. "I may have the body of a monster, but you certainly have the mind of one."

 _To be a monster—to be_ _ **different**_ _—means standing apart…standing_ _ **alone.**_ _But if you're here, and I'm here, then maybe it doesn't have to be that way._

If only he could express his thoughts into words. If only Izaya would let him.

"If that's all you came here for, then I'm going to excuse myself," Izaya said primly, turning away from him.

"Wait!" The blond called out for him. He watched as the other paused, back towards him, but head tilted in a way that implied curiosity. "Stay. I just…" he looked down at his lap, biting his lip. Shizuo had never done this before, had never tried to approach anyone in hopes of friendship. The only two friends he had had came to him, opening up and accepting him due to curiosity or genuine niceness. He didn't know the right way to do something as important like this, and because of that, he feared that he would mess it up like he had broken everything in his path during his bouts of rage.

" _The way through the heart is through the stomach!"_ his mother had said, _"If you share your lunch with someone, I'm sure you'll be friends!"_

Wasn't that what he came here to do?

Swallowing down the tightness in his throat, Shizuo looked straight at him and asked, "Do you want to have lunch with me?"

There was a sudden tenseness in the other's spine. Shock, perhaps, that he had been asked such a thing. Izaya spun on his heel and stared at him, brows creased in a frown that wiped away all previous traces of his fake smiles. Scarlet eyes locked on amber, and for a moment, they were in a stalemate.

Then—

"Lunch?" Izaya shook his head, letting out a quiet huff of laughter that seemed to be intended as mocking but came out disbelieving. "You came all this way for _that?"_

The blond dropped his gaze, red flushing his cheeks in embarrassment. One hand reached back to sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah," Shizuo answered, voice unusually soft, "That is-if you want to that is."

There was a beat of silence before the brunet replied:

"I don't bring any lunch."

"That's fine," Shizuo said, a smile breaking out as he looked up at confused red eyes and realised what Izaya's words implied. "My mom made an extra bento after I told her how skinny you are."

Izaya huffed a protest. "I'm not skinny."

"Yes you are. You're all skin and bones," Shizuo countered, patting on the bench. "Come over here, Izaya-kun."

The brunet looked at him warily, scarlet eyes cold and calculating. He had the distinct impression that Izaya was trying to dissect him in his mind, but dismissed it absently to watch as, slowly, the other teen approached the bench and took seat at the farthest end. Shizuo couldn't help but beam at him, because even he could tell from his daily exposure to the brunet's brand of annoyingness that Izaya's acquiescence is a rare thing indeed. Amusingly, the brunet looked _more_ disgruntled at seeing him smile.

"Stop that," Izaya groused, arms folded over his chest. "You're looking creepy."

Shizuo ducked his head, awkwardness overcoming him in a burst of red that flared across his cheeks. "Sorry," he mumbled, taking out the lunches his mother had prepared for them. "It's just, I'm not used to this—inviting someone else to lunch. Usually they invite themselves."

If anything, it made Izaya scowl harder. "Stop it! You're seriously acting out of character right now! Aren't you supposed to be going 'rawr!' and throwing things at me by now?"

"Why should I? It's not like you're doing anything right now that pisses me off." The blond asked back, honestly confused as he handed over Izaya's lunchbox. The brunet took it gingerly, eyeing its contents with wariness warranted for poisoned food.

"I sent a gang after you this morning." Izaya stated, deadpan.

Shizuo shrugged, opening his meal and picking up his chopsticks. "You sent a gang after me every morning," he pointed out, "It's practically routine by now."

"But aren't you angry?" The brunet furrowed his brows in confusion. "You chased me all across campus earlier today."

He nodded. "That's true, but I'm not really angry now," the blond tilted up, gazing at the clear expanse of blue above with a small frown of concentration. "How do I say this…Well, it's just that, after I realise that you're like me, I don't really feel that angry at you," his gaze slid downwards, amber eyes looking at Izaya with softness unfamiliar and uncomfortable for the brunet, "Don't get me wrong, I'm still angry that you made me fight every morning, but.." he looked away, gaze returning to his lunch, "I know how it feels, to be different, to be alone. It's…nobody should go through that alone."

"Pity," Izaya spat out the word like poison, glaring at him, "Is that why you're doing this? Do you feel good trying to play the hero, pretending that you're not a monster? Is that why?"

He shook his head, amber eyes locked on scarlet so that Izaya could sense the seriousness behind his reply. "No," Shizuo said, repeating the same answer he gave on the second day after they met, "I thought you looked lonely, so that's why I asked."

At that time, Izaya had laughed, now…now Shizuo couldn't tell what he would do. The brunet's face was blank; neither frown nor smile gracing his features.

After a moment of silence, Izaya shook his head, sighed, and opened his lunch, murmuring. "You are impossible."

Shizuo smiled in response, but the brunet had looked away so as to not see him.

That was fine. _This is good progress, right?_ He wondered, returning his gaze back on his lunch, _Maybe Mom is right, and all it takes to ply someone open is some good food and good company._

The two ate in silence on opposite ends of the bench as the spring wind rolled on, carrying the scent of cherry blossoms up to the clear, blue sky.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

 **-** " _For a thing to be lovable, it must first be loved."_ –this is taken from a quote by G.K. Chesterton: _"There is the great lesson of 'Beauty and the Beast,' that a thing must be loved before it is lovable."_

It's just that—it's a very Shizaya quote, don't you think? Especially since it concerns the story of Beauty and the Beast. We all know how _that_ story ends, if only the Disney version. And it's…it's sweet, that's what it is. That you must love first before the one you love becomes lovable. And I just think that, in this story, it's Shizuo's who's the Beauty while Izaya's the Beast, which is ironic since the former is the one called 'monster'. It's just—I _can't_ resist putting that quote somewhere, especially since it rings so true to the tale I'm trying to tell.

 **-** Heiwajima Namiko is the name of Shizuo's mother. I'm not quite sure where it came from, but I got it from Durarara wikia, so if I'm wrong, please correct me. As of writing this, there are no known facts or details regarding Shizuo's or Izaya's parents, so I'm taking some artistic license in my depiction of them.

 **-** Jyan Jakka Jyan is a Canon gang that got absorbed into the Awakusu-kai for some reason. I came across this fact while I was reading Durarara SH. It's name is really weird…it makes me think of Nyan Cat, and I keep imagining its members wearing cat masks or ears…(I don't know whether to find the mental picture morbid or funny)

 **-** The Japanese school system, unlike the American one, starts at April. The first term ends at July 20nd, and then the school takes a break for the summer until August 31st. Second term lasts until December 25th, and then there's a break until early January. The final term ends at March.

However, for the sake of plot, I'm pushing the schedule a little ahead of time. So Shizuo and Izaya entered school at March, right at the beginning of spring, and began talking to each other around early April. As of this current chapter, it's still April, hence the cherry blossoms. The reason why I'm doing this would hopefully be clear later.


	11. Intermission 2 - Love and Monsters

_It's not you, it's me_

 _I'm different. Strange. Weird._

 _A freak. A little insane. Definitely a bit screwed in the head_

 _It's not a matter of whether you fall for me or not_

 _What matters is whether you'll stay._

* * *

Intermission 2 – Love and Monsters

* * *

 **[WEEKEND 2]**

"My, my, it's rare to see you this distracted, _Nakura-kun_."

Izaya looked up from the drink he had been nursing, flashing a smirk at the brunette woman who had sauntered towards him from the entrance so boldly. Still sitting on his seat, he spun the stool so that he could face the older woman properly. His back hit the bar casually as he watched the underground freelancer's brows crease in concern.

" _Benihime-san,"_ he purred, drawling out the pseudonym in a mocking lilt, "To what do I owe the displeasure of your company this evening?"

"Must you always be so prickly? I swear, it's like trying to pet a hedgehog," she sighed, taking a seat next to him. Chocolate eyes slid sideways towards him as a smirk graced her lips, "Or a really, really moody cat. Even though you act like this, you can be quite cute."

"I am _not_ cute," Izaya protested, narrowing his eyes to glare at her. The ease in which she could get under his skin was one of the many reasons he disliked dealing with her.

"Of course you're not," the ex-assassin replied amicably, smiling at him kindly. For Izaya though, she may as well have been mocking him. "I suppose this is the appeal of tsundere characters?"

The brunet gritted his teeth, "I am _not_ a tsundere."

"Right, right," she chuckled, placing her chin on her hand as she crossed her legs, "By the way, my son made a new friend this week."

"Congratulations," he said dryly, spinning the stool again so that he faced the counter once more and stared at his drink.

"Uhuh," she hummed in agreement, her smile widening to the point that her eyes were squinted, "From the description he gave me, his friend's personality matches you. Prickly and wary—very slow to warm up to others. Like a hedgehog, or a cat," the brunette smiled teasingly at him, "Or a tsundere."

"Have you met this friend?" Izaya asked, not so much because he was interested but rather due to the fact that he hated her calling him 'tsundere' or comparing him to cute, little animals.

"No," the ex-assassin sighed ruefully, chuckling quietly, "My son won't even give me a description of his appearance. He said 'Mom, if you know, you're going to do all sorts of background checks and stalk him everywhere for a month _at least_. I'm _trying_ to make him my friend, remember!'" she huffed, shaking her head, "Can you believe it, Nakura-kun? All I want is the best for my children, and he said _that._ Ahh, kids these days."

Izaya raised an eyebrow, turning his head to her direction. "Would you really do that though? Run background checks and stalk him?"

There was a beat of silence, and then, sheepishly: "Yes," she admitted, smiling awkwardly and rubbing the back of her head, "Like I said before, all I want is the best for my children, and if I have to do that so that I know they won't get into any trouble they can't get out of by themselves, then I will."

"Sounds excessive though, not to mention creepy."

Her smile turned soft, and her chocolate eyes gained the far-away look one get when they thought of something precious. "I know it's excessive," the underground freelancer agreed, "But a mother's love is boundless and endless. If I must, I will move mountains and part seas for them. They're my children, you understand, Nakura-kun? They're my most precious, blessed treasures in the whole world."

Tilting his head, he regarded her for a moment, "Someone I know said something similar. Of course, he didn't mean it in the same sense as you do. His love for a certain woman is more romantic than familial, you see. But he said the same things too—that he's willing to do anything it takes to be with her."

"I'm not surprised," she replied, her laughter gentle and eyes twinkling in understanding, "Whether it's platonic, romantic or familial, when you're in love it consumes you whole. There's no escaping it. Once it catches you in its jaws it will never _ever_ let go," she let out a quiet huff of wry amusement, "Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes, and we keep doing it anyway."

"Sounds tedious," Izaya commented, staring back at his still-full drink, "Not to mention absolutely dreadful."

'Benihime' laughed, "You're right, Nakura-kun. Love can be a cruel mistress indeed, and yet we're driven to it anyway. No, it is more accurate to say that we're driven _by_ it," she grinned at him, "Knowing that, love is something only the brave can do. Because love—it is so powerful and all-consuming that if some are driven to death by it."

"Then call me a coward and let me live," he replied sardonically, eyes on his drink as he raised it and finally took a sip, "This is why I choose to love only humanity."

Beside him, the ex-assassin laughed again, and said words which he ignored for the rest of the evening.

 _("You may be able to choose to_ _ **stay**_ _in love or_ _ **out**_ _of it," the mother said, chocolate eyes sparkling amber in the orange glow of the bar, "But you cannot choose the ones you'll fall in love with. That is a matter of the heart, and not the head.")_

If love lead to death _(to the cessation of existence he feared)_ then it was fortunate for Izaya that the only thing he could fall in love with is a concept.

* * *

"Anyway," 'Benihime' drawled as she swirled the colourful pink cocktail with its straw, "You haven't answered my question."

He raised an eyebrow, deliberately making his tone innocent in order to annoy her, "I was not aware that you posed any."

She huffed, more exasperated than truly irritated, "It was an implicit question. Why are you here when you're usually over there—" she tilted her head towards the ongoing poker game held at a large, round table, "—winning? For that matter, why are you drinking? Aren't you underage? You really shouldn't be doing that."

"I shouldn't be here in the first place, yet here I am. Besides, it's not like anyone here except you care whether I drink or not," he retorted, taking a drink just to prove her otherwise. Scarlet eyes slanted sideways at her direction as he sneered, "Moreover, it's hypocritical for someone like you to criticize me. I bet that you started drinking at the age of fourteen, what with your wild past."

The brunette shrugged, unperturbed by his attempts to irritate her, "We all have our rebellious stage. Mine just went a bit longer and wilder than others," chocolate eyes glinted with sharp wit, "You're dodging my question, Nakura-kun."

Izaya pointedly ignored her, "Don't you think it's interesting though? What made an assassin feared in all Japan—the founder and leader of the Red Hounds gang which once ruled the streets, a wild, cunning, ruthless woman who was called a demon—renounce her ways?" Crimson eyes gleamed coldly, "And what made her came back?"

"The same reason why I saved you when you were cornered by those angry gang members. The same reason why I taught you how to defend yourself, why I gave you that switchblade in the first place," she answered, unruffled, "I have children. I fell in love. I have a family."

He turned away, scowling at his drink. Irritation simmered in his chest, a familiar companion whenever he had to deal with her. This was why he hated her.

 _(Rather than a human, she was more like a demon. A monster. And Izaya hated monsters.)_

"What a cliché reason," he stated snidely.

She laughed, grating his nerves, "Ah, I suppose that's true. In the end it all comes down to love, the greatest of all human motivators," the ex-assassin looked down at her cocktail, her smile sardonic as she said, "Love, which drove me to create the gang I later left. Love, which drove me to killing and made me stop. Love, which made me leave this underworld only to return back to it later."

"Your love sounds troublesome," Izaya pointed out, sneering, "It's much easier to pick one and stay with it."

"Whoever says that love is easy?" she laughed, "Ah, but I digress. We're moving away from the original topic. Very smart of you, Nakura-kun."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied innocently.

"Suuureee…" the brunette rolled her eyes, breathing out a sigh as she asked again, "What's distracting you, Nakura-kun?"

"Nothing," he answered, "It's just your imagination, Benihime-san."

The underground freelancer snorted inelegantly, playing with her bendy straw with the tips of her fingers. "Liar," she called him out bluntly, "If you keep trying to change the subject then it's very obvious that something's eating you," she gently nudged him sideways with a shoulder, giving him a friendly smile, "So talk to me, Nakura-kun, so that it won't swallow you up."

"It's really nothing," Izaya insisted.

"If it's really nothing then you would be over there swiping all their money out of their wallets and then some more," she stated confidently, "What's really eating you, Nakura-kun?"

"It's none of your business," he snapped back, "Besides, why are you acting so concerned _now?_ You certainly weren't _back then._ "

 _That_ finally caused a reaction. She flinched, dropping her gaze in shame as she scooted away. Fierce joy ripped through his chest at _finally_ making her lose her composure, as well as indignant anger as the memory of that time came to him.

"It's been a year, Nakura-kun…" she murmured, warm chocolate eyes sad, "I'm sorry, I really am," there was genuine sadness in her tone, but he ignored it, "But my son—he hurt himself badly in a fight, and I had to take him to the hospital—"

"You told me I can call you whenever I want and you would always come to me when I needed it," Izaya cut her off, tired and angry at hearing the same excuse, "You told me I could _trust_ you."

 _You weren't there when I needed you._

"I'm sorry…" she repeated, true sorrow suffused in her voice.

"No, it's fine," Finally, he was able to pull a smile across his smile. To observers, however, it looked more like fangs bared, "I should thank you, actually. Because you proved that the only person I could truly rely on is myself."

 _(There was only one person who truly cared about Orihara Izaya, and that was himself.)_

He pushed himself off his seat, giving her a mock bow before he left, "So _thank you_ , Benihime-san."

 _(Sorry wasn't enough.)_

Izaya left the bar with no winnings filling his bag and anger simmering in his chest. His smile, however, remained fixated on his face as he went out the door and into the cold spring air.

Chocolate brown eyes glinted amber in the bar's orange light, watching him leave silently, before a dejected sigh escaped her lips.

 _(Heiwajima Namiko regretted losing Orihara Izaya's trust…but she never regretted rushing to the hospital to make sure Heiwajima Shizuo was healed. A mother's love for her children is boundless and endless, after all.)_

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

Wow, that went angsty real fast.

To be honest, it wasn't supposed to go this way. Izaya was supposed to talk a bit with Shizuo's mom and rant a bit about Shizuo (without actually telling her it's him), but then _this_ happened instead. Honestly I wasn't planning on going in-depth about their past at all, but then I write this chapter and it somehow got placed in it. Times like this is when I'm certain that it's not the author's that control the stories, but the stories that control the author, because I have no idea this was going to happen until I actually write it down.

I hope nobody would start blaming Namiko for leaving Izaya when he really needed her help. It's just that, well, she's a mother, and when it comes down to it, she's a woman who has her priorities organized. As much as she cared for and worried for Izaya _(I think it's because she sees a bit of herself in him)_ , she is Shizuo's mother first and foremost, and so when she saw her son bloodied and beaten and broken after a fight, her first instinct was to make sure he's alright. In this matter, she's as human as the rest of us, despite her underground reputation as a demon.

\- " _Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes. And we keep doing it anyway,"_ this is taken from the song _Wait For It_ from the musical _Hamilton_ by Lin-Manuel Miranda. Awesome song and an all-around awesome musical.


	12. The Blessings of Kindness

_How do you measure kindness?_

 _By words, by actions, by thoughts?_

 _How do you measure kindness?_

 _The impact it leaves is great,_

 _If it takes a meteor to reshape the world,_

 _Then a single grain of kindness is enough to be that meteor._

* * *

Chapter 9: The Blessings of Kindness

* * *

 **[WEEK 3]**

When the familiar all-consuming red haze cleared and Shizuo was left standing over the wreckage of his rage, he sensed Izaya perched on the wall behind him, and felt those crimson eyes observe him curiously.

This was the first time Izaya approached him in the morning, and for that matter, outside of school.

The blond panted heavily in the aftermath of his anger, scowling down at the unconscious bodies littered at his feet. Adrenaline still fizzed in his veins like an overshaken can of soda, and there was a dull thrumming in his ears that became more prominent with the awareness that the brunet was right behind him. Even though his back was to the brunet, his distinctive scent was enough to tip him off. Fire in the air—burning bright and invisible against the scent of spring carried by the wind—marked Izaya wherever he went. And from the weeks spent in his company, Shizuo could somehow tell that the brunet wasn't smiling.

 _(The opposite of the first time he witnessed his strength.)_

He breathed in heavily, tilting his head back to take in great gulps of air. Looking at the cloud-stained, bright sky calmed him somewhat, allowed him to ignore the apparent destruction on the ground. Only after he felt his adrenaline died down to manageable levels and the thrumming in his ears faded into silence that he turned to regard the brunet.

When he saw him, Izaya had already pulled a smile _(a mask)_ on his face.

"Now look at what happened here," he purred, his grin tugged wide in a taunt, "A monster in his natural habitat."

 _Breathe in. Breath out. In. Out._

"What do you want, Izaya-kun?" Shizuo asked tersely, his lips twisted into a frown as he picked up the lunchboxes he had placed on the sidewalk prior to the fight.

"Oh, nothing much," the other said lightly, childishly swinging his legs out under him, "I simply wanted to see the trials and tribulations of a monster as he makes his way to school."

The blond rolled his eyes, approaching him. "Don't be a brat."

"You say it as if I can be anything else," he wasn't laughing, but the gleam in his eyes and the intonation in his words made it clear that he was.

"Yeah, well, why not?" Shizuo asked in return, reaching the foot of the wall. He craned his neck slightly to look up at him, "It's not as if you can't. With your silvertongue I bet you can convince anyone that the sky is green. You can be anything that you want," he looked away, starting to head to the direction of their school. Mumbled into the wind was, "…Unlike me."

Behind him, he could tell that the brunet was frowning as the other moved to his feet and started following him. But when Shizuo looked up to see Izaya balancing on the wall, walking alongside him, all he saw was the smile on the other teen's face.

"Ah, I suppose it _is_ hard for a monster to pretend he is something that he isn't," Izaya chirped annoyingly, grinning down at him, "And yet, you somehow managed to uphold a partial masquerade. Bravo!"

He shrugged, looking at the grey pavement as his feet took him to their destination. "Maybe you're right," he admitted, heart weighted heavily in his chest, "To be honest, I'm kind of jealous of you, Izaya-kun. You're like me, different, but you're different in a way that everyone can sort of overlook. I…" amber eyes glanced sideways so as to not see him, "Do you know? The reason why I bleached my hair blond is so that everyone will know who to avoid, so that they can leave me alone. If they know that, then hopefully I wouldn't get into as many fights as before. If that happens, then maybe I can have a somewhat peaceful life, even though I know I'll probably never have the normality everyone else enjoys."

"To be honest," Shizuo continued, head tilted to take in the sky, avoiding the brunet's crimson gaze, "I hate violence."

There was silence; thick like a fog and unmoveable like rock. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wasn't _un_ comfortable either. Slowly, his gaze drifted away from the sky, down to the earth, still avoiding meeting Izaya's eyes. It was only when the gates to Raijin High was within sight did the silence broke.

Izaya jumped down from the wall, landing in front of him and turning on his heel to face him. There was a scowl on his face.

"I don't get you," he stated, uncharacteristically blunt, "You state that you hate violence, yet you're practically the _living incarnation of violence._ You say that you hate me, yet you keep trying to befriend me. You want a normal life, yet you bleach your hair and make yourself a walking warning sign for everyone to avoid you. _Just what do you want!?"_

Shizuo stared at him, watched him with wide eyes as the brunet glared angrily at him. The other's arms were folded over his chest, his mouth tugged into a scowl that erased all the lines of his previous fake smiles. It was rare enough to see Izaya so disgruntled as to frown openly, but he had never heard him raise his voice too. Usually, he would have felt thrilled to crack his mask and make him lose his composure, yet as he had no idea what he did this time that frustrated Izaya, all Shizuo felt was confusion.

"What do I want?" he repeated, just for clarity sake. He frowned and tilted his head sideways, "Isn't it obvious? I've told you this before; all I want is for us to be friends."

A frustrated noise growled low in the back of Izaya's throat, and with a spin of his heel, the brunet marched forward to the gates, his scowl heavy enough to deter any attempts of further conversation. "You are _impossible!_ "

The blond could only gaze in confusion as he watched Izaya entered the school with the same figurative cloud and anger that usually darkened Shizuo's mornings.

* * *

Lunch rolled around, and Shizuo was surprised at Izaya's lack of presence in his classroom.

After that incident with Nakura last week, the blond had thought that they had returned to their normal routine of spending lunch in his classroom. Sure, the rooftop was nice and all, but there were always other students hanging around there and Shizuo didn't want to scare them with his presence. Moreover, after that impromptu moment on the rooftop, every other lunch was spent in his classroom. So for Izaya to suddenly break routine and not harass him as usual…it worried Shizuo.

 _Sure, he's an asshole and jerk and all he ever does is irritate me,_ Shizuo grumbled to himself, picking the lunchboxes and following Izaya's distinctive scent, _But he's like me; different and lonely. Maybe that annoyingness is a product of his experiences, but even if it's an inherent part of him…_

He reached the top of the staircase, placing a hand on the door leading to the rooftop.

 _Even if he doesn't change after he acknowledges me as a friend…_

He pushed open the door, and stepped out to face the bright, blue sky.

 _It doesn't matter anyway. I'll still try to reach out, and I'll bear the responsibility for the consequences of my actions. That's because…_

There were a few students on the rooftop, but none of them was the brunet he was looking for. Following his the scent of fire in the air, he walked to the more secluded part of the rooftop, ignoring the fearful whispers trailing his wake.

 _It's not pity or superiority or whatever the hell the louse tries to reason…_

He found Izaya sitting with his back to the wall, arms crossed over bent knees. The shadow cast by the wall hid him from the bright of day.

 _It's just…nobody deserved to be alone. Being alone is more painful than being hurt._

Izaya must have heard his footsteps approaching him, because the brunet abruptly jerked up. His mouth curved into a scowl as he watched him settled down next to him, on the side the shadows did not touch. There was bite to his tone when he spoke, atypical in his unsubtleness."What are you doing here?"

"Having lunch," Shizuo answered, before he replied in a tone that was part accusing and part inquisitive, "You didn't come to my classroom."

"Of course not," he said back, the smoothness in his words slightly pebbled by what Shizuo sensed was irritation _(where were Izaya's masks?)_ , "I don't spend all of my time with monsters."

"So when you're not harassing me, you're up here all alone?" the blond countered.

" _Solitude_ is different from being alone," Izaya hissed, rolling his eyes, "For starters, it allows me space to think and observe, unlike _some brute I know_."

"What are you thinking about then?" Shizuo asked, tilting his head to regard the brunet. This…this was what people do, right, when their friends were upset? At least, that was what Tom did whenever he had something on his mind. Shizuo himself, however, had never found himself on the asking end of the relationship, and so he couldn't help but doubt and ask himself:

 _Am I doing alright? Is this what Tom-san would have done? Should I press him for more?_

Izaya glared at him, "None of your business!"

Slightly taken aback by his apparent hostility _(the brunet never displayed his emotions so openly, not even when the blond tried to crack his masks)_ , Shizuo blinked and leaned back against the wall. Shrugging out of bemusement, he took out one lunchbox and said, "Alright then. Here's your lunch."

The brunet stared at the offered lunch, then up at his face, and then back again at the lunchbox. "That's it?" he asked, disbelief evident in the way he took the lunchbox without any of the usual protest, "You're not going to pry into my problems or anything?"

"Well, if you don't want to share then it's not like I can make you do so," Shizuo reasoned, "Don't get me wrong, I _do_ want to know what's eating you. But if you don't want to share, then I won't force you," the blond frowned, his brows creased in concern, "Still, I think it's best if you tell _someone_ about it at least. It's not good to keep such heavy thoughts to yourself, or else it's going to swallow you up."

Izaya continued to stare at him, mouth set in a thin line. Something in his expression—in the widening of his red eyes, in the way he gripped and released the sides of his lunchbox intermittently—told Shizuo that if the brunet was someone else, he would be gaping at him by now.

Instead, he whispered in wonder:

"Why are you being so _nice_ to me?" he questioned softly, with the same intensity and force as someone shouting, "I've been nothing but cruel to you since the day we met. I taunt you, tease you, and torment you daily. I sent gangs after gangs after you every morning. I got you hit by a _truck_ ," Izaya stared at him, utterly confused and lost, " _Why are you still so nice to me?_ "

 _How should I reply to_ _ **that?**_

There was just—there was something in his tone, in the way he blinked those red eyes a little too fast—a little too much to get rid of dust—that hit Shizuo harder than a truck. He _recognised_ that lilt staining his words, the sheer disbelief mingled with wonder and confusion, rooted deep in a sense of unworthiness. It was the same tone that painted his unsaid questions whenever his mother or brother or Tom or the milk lady did something kind to him. It was even the same question that echoed in his mind whenever he was treated as if he was human: _Why are you being so nice to me?_

He never expected to be on the receiving end of that question.

Up until then, he never understood why they seemed on the verge of crying or anger whenever he asked them this. Now, however, he understood why.

He raised a hand, but on second thought, he clenched it into a fist and placed it on his lap. As much as Shizuo wanted to hug him, tell him that _'It's okay, I'm here. You're not alone anymore',_ he knew that as they were right now, Izaya wouldn't appreciate the gesture. Perhaps someday, but not today. Instead, he caught his gaze and strived for sincerity.

"Because," Shizuo answered, "being alone is more painful than being hurt."

Izaya opened his mouth, attempting to speak, before he closed his mouth and turned away, looking down at his lunchbox with such intense scowl, Shizuo feared it would melt. The brunet curled up in the shadows of the wall, head turned away so as to completely ignore him. Yet, before he shifted away, Shizuo thought he saw his crimson eyes glistened.

And right here, right now, despite all the frustration and irritation Izaya gave him, all Shizuo wanted to do was embrace him.

 _One doesn't need to be cruel to be lonely. It might be that one was lonely, and so became cruel._

"I don't understand you," the brunet murmured, so quietly that the blond had to strain to hear it, "Nobody is _that_ nice. Everyone wants something, and once they get it, they'll leave. They may leave regardless of that, too. So it's easier to just keep a distance and get to the point. Being alone is much better than being hurt."

"I think you're wrong," Shizuo countered gently, his heart pounding fast and nerves jittery despite his apparent calm. This…this was the turning point he had been waiting for, the one that could make or break their tentative friendship. He gnawed his lip, hoping that he wouldn't mess this up like he broke everything else he touched. "I think…I think it's better to be hurt than to be alone. Because the pain is proof that you were once happy, that it happened at all. It's…it's kind of like how you know you're not dreaming by pinching yourself; the pain lets you know that you're alive. When I think like that, I think: _'How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.'_ "

Izaya laughed humourlessly, glancing at him from the corner of his eyes, "You watched Winnie the Pooh, Shizu-chan?"

The blond flushed red in embarrassment. "Oh, shut up," he mumbled, picking at his lunch. He felt his ears burned as he heard Izaya laughed.

 _Is it good that he's laughing? Is it bad? Did I do something wrong? I really hope not…_

"You're really impossible," he heard Izaya sighed, prompting him to turn his head slightly and peer at his expression. The brunet was smiling, but it felt different from his usual smiles. The corners of his smile were nowhere near as sharp as his smirks, his crimson eyes gaining a softness that was almost foreign to the blond. Izaya sighed again; leaning against the wall, head tilted back to lightly bump against the hard surface.

"I give up," he announced, making Shizuo more confused. The brunet's face was tilted up to the sky, as if he was drinking the sight of the heavenly blue. Izaya chuckled self-deprecatingly as he murmured, "I can't believe I'm doing this, but I give up. Checkmate, Shizu-chan. I didn't believe you had it in you."

Shizuo blinked, his confusion drowning out his meagre irritation at the nickname. "What are you talking about, Izaya-kun?"

The brunet canted his head to the side, eyes rolling down to meet his amber ones. "Oh, nothing~" he sing-song, pulling up a semblance of his usual smirk as he finally opened his lunchbox and took a bite.

Shizuo stared at him for a little while longer, before he shook his head and focused back on his lunch, "You're weird, Izaya-kun."

The brunet laughed, and this time, there was a hint of genuine laughter in his voice, "As if you can say otherwise, Shizu-chan."

The blond cracked a grin, they shared a look, and without any prompting, both burst into laughter.

The two ate in between laughter and jokes, sitting right next to each other, in the shadow and the light.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

I can't believe it! They're _finally_ friends! And it only took one prologue, two intermissions, and nine actual chapters to get here o(≧∇≦o)

Aaaah, finally, the first arc is almost over. ( ･ᴗ･̥̥̥ ) I'm so happy to finally get to this point, but on the other hand, I couldn't believe I actually made it. Hahaha…most of the time, I like to procrastinate in my work, so I'm really surprised that this happened! Aaah…I'm really happy…maybe this mean that I can change my habits…

Now just two more chapters before we can close this arc and begin the next one.

* * *

 **FUN FACTS**

* * *

 **1.** " _Being alone is more painful than being hurt."_ – This is a quote taken from Monkey D. Luffy, the protagonist of _One Piece._ I know that most people consider _One Piece_ as 'that silly pirate show', but it's so much more than that. It's the first manga I fell in love with, and even now, I still love it for its poignant themes and hilarious comedy.

 **2.** " _How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."_ – Like Izaya said, this quote is from Winnie the Pooh. It's a pretty touching quote, I think, and fitting for the moment.

 **3.** ' _He found Izaya sitting with his back to the wall…The shadow cast by the wall hid him from the bright of day.'_ and _'…he watched him_ [Shizuo] _settled down next to him, on the side the shadows did not touch.'_ –This, I'm trying to capture the sense of duality with them. Izaya is very obviously 'dark' while Shizuo is 'light', and I want to try to capture that dichotomy by their sitting positions. They are each other's opposite, but that's what makes them perfect foils for each other.

 **4.** ' _The two ate in between laughter and jokes, sitting right next to each other, in the shadow and the light.'_ –This is a callback to Chapter 8, where Shizuo and Izaya first ate lunch together in silence, sitting as far apart as possible. Here, not only are they sitting right next to each other, they're also relaxed enough to joke around. The last part _'…in the shadow and the light'_ is meant to show that, even though they are opposites, it doesn't mean they can't get along. Indeed, shadows can't exist without light, and light has no meaning without shadows/darkness. I guess I was trying to say that, one without the other is like missing half of a circle.


	13. Intermission 3 - Lost in Thoughts

_In the water, reflected on its obscuring waves,_

 _Was a path woven by moonlight, silver and bright,_

 _If I stepped on it, will the tide sweep me away?_

 _If I brave the road, will I be drowned by its currents?_

 _In the curve of the horizon, a bright star beckons._

* * *

Intermission 3 – Lost in Thoughts All Alone

* * *

 **[WEEKEND 3]**

For the first time in his life, Izaya felt lost.

He had given up. Admitted defeat. And though he expected the taste of failure to be bitter, it _wasn't._

In fact, much to his bewilderment, it tasted… _good._ Not sweet, no, but not _bittersweet_ either. It felt like a weight he had been carrying in his chest had lightened, and every breath after that filled his lungs a little bit more, throwing off his balance and disorientating him with its pleasantness. The taste of defeat was—puzzlingly—akin to Shizuo's delicious homemade lunches.

He couldn't understand.

He was prepared for disappointment, from himself and from Shizuo after the other realised what a terrible mistake he had made. Except, it never came. He thought he would feel discontented at himself for giving up, for tipping his King and allowing Shizuo his victory, but he couldn't find any cause for regret. He expected Shizuo's disgust at him when he revealed this true personality, but either the blond had become desensitised after weeks of constant taunting or he simply didn't care, because he still accepted him anyway. None of his predictions came true.

He couldn't understand what he felt.

He knew enough of himself to know that he should feel frustrated. None of his plans worked, all of his conjectures and hypotheses were for naught, and to top it off, he lost the 'game' he had set up. To add insult to injury, he lost to someone who _didn't even realise_ they were playing. He had staked his pride, and the brute had made him toss it aside with his—with his…

 _("Why are you being so_ _ **nice**_ _to me?")_

And yet, despite it all, he couldn't find it in himself to hate him.

 _(_ " _I've been nothing but cruel to you since the day we met. I taunt you, tease you, and torment you daily. I sent gangs after gangs after you every morning. I got you hit by a_ _ **truck**_ , _" he couldn't understand, and his incomprehension sets him adrift—lost and flatfooted and disconcerted enough to ask again,"_ _**Why are you still so nice to me?**_ " _)_

Because—

 _("Being alone is more painful than being hurt.")_

But—

 _("Nobody is_ _ **that**_ _nice. Everyone wants something, and once they get it, they'll leave. They may leave regardless of that, too. So it's easier to just keep a distance and get to the point. Being alone is much better than being hurt.")_

If there was anyone he hated, then Izaya hated himself, because despite his disbelief, despite all his struggles against it, he found himself drawn to that faint glimmer of hope that maybe, _maybe—_

 _("I think…I think it's better to be hurt than to be alone.")_

Damn, Shizuo. Damn that monster.

* * *

Izaya found himself sitting on a rooftop at a cold, Sunday night.

Gazing despondently at the lights spread out below his feet, he balanced precariously on the high, chain-linked fence lining the rooftop. His hands gripped the freezing rail, clenching it so tightly, his knuckles turned white and the cold metal warmed under his palms. Shoulders curved forward to a slouch, protecting him from the bite of the cold wind that brushed past his jacket.

The air was cold, and each distant pinprick of light below him represented a glimpse to the psyche he loved to poked, a glimmer of deeply buried secrets he liked to unearth and unravel as he watched the faces of his dearly beloved humans shift and turn, revealing to him all the different facets of humanity. And yet, despite all this, Izaya couldn't bring himself to care.

Tonight, the stars on the ground were simply light to him.

"What's with that look, Nakura-kun?"

The brunet barely bothered to raise his head, instead glancing at the ex-assassin from the corner of his eyes. He was certain she wasn't there when he arrived, but he wasn't surprised to see her suddenly show up like a ghost. Instead, he wondered what she was doing up here instead of in the bar where the nightly poker game was being played. The brunet teen couldn't find it in himself to be bothered, however, and simply regarded her silently.

The brunette woman was balancing on top of the fence with one foot, the other leg extended over the hundreds-meter drop and arms spread out without a care. Her braid hung over her back for once, instead of dangling over her shoulder as usual. She was smiling, but the softness in her moonlight-tinted eyes indicated concern that normally made him uncomfortable.

Any other time, Izaya would have felt irritated. Now though…

Now, he didn't know the correct label for his feelings.

 _Oh, Shizu-chan, look at what you do to me, you monster._

Instead of offering his typical evasive answers or passive-aggressive words, the brunet shrugged.

His gaze slid away from her, back to the city he so loved. Down there, right under his feet, were a multitude of lives ready for him to tangle and ensnare, poke and prod, push and pull to his heart's content, until they reveal all the interesting sides of humanity. The humanity he loved, the humanity he adored—

The humanity which he currently found himself uninterested in.

 _This is what you do to me._

Since when did he become so interested in monsters that he stopped paying attention to his beloved humans?

 _I should do something to fix that._

And yet, Izaya couldn't find the will to do so.

"Nakura-kun?" the underground freelancer's voice drew him back to the present. He glanced at her again, seeing that she had seated herself next to him during his contemplation. "Are you alright?"

There were many ways he could reply to that. _'Of course I'm fine,'_ he could purr, drawing out a smirk he didn't feel to mask the melancholy settling itself over his shoulders. _'None of your business,'_ he could retort, voice lashed sharply against her like a whip. _'Oh, how nice of you to care,'_ he could drawl, tone pitched high in sarcasm.

Instead, he found himself asking:

"Why are you so nice to me?"

 _(Honesty tasted heavy in its foreignness, but perhaps it was because it was so solid that it remained on his tongue when all lies evaporated into air.)_

"Why?" she echoed, body turned towards him to regard him fully. Her smile had faded, lips pulled down into a neutral line as she gazed at him. Her head tilted to the side, her braid swinging behind her back by the motion, before she let out a soft chuckle. As she answered, her smile returned to her.

"I guess," 'Benihime' said, gentle and kind in a way that Izaya previously refused to accept, "It's because you remind me of myself."

"Oh?" he turned to face her at last, giving her a considering look.

"Yes," she nodded, her smile bittersweet. Chocolate-brown eyes slid sideways, her gaze shifting to the city sprawled out beneath their feet, though he could still sense her attention on him. "I was a lot like you when I was younger. Mischievous, trouble-making," she chuckled, "Too smart for my own good."

Despite himself, Izaya found himself chuckling too.

"As a child, I was different from everyone else. Where everyone was struggling with their hiragana, I was writing fluently in kanji. Where everyone meekly accepted what they were told, I questioned everything," she grinned at him, as if sharing a secret, "As you can guess, I drove my parents crazy."

Her laughter faded, though, as her eyes gained a distant look. "My parents didn't like it when I questioned them. They considered it rude and disrespectful, and often punished me for them," the underground freelancer laughed again, but this time, it sounded hollow, "I must say, their punishments sure were creative! They like to switch it up too, so there's no getting used to it. Aah…just remembering that…"

She shuddered. "Anyway, growing up I was pretty much left to fend for myself. There was Grandpa, but he came only a few times a year. And while I can mingle with my classmates and all, it's just…" the brunette smiled humourlessly, "I knew a lot of people, but very few of them were my friends."

"That was why I made the Red Hounds," she admitted, "I was bored with my daily life, and I wanted to look for a place where I could belong. If I can't find it in my family or school, then I decided to make one for myself. And what a gang it was," chuckling, she tilted her head up, smiling at the moon, "I was a first year in middle school when I made the gang. It was a joke at first, but the more fights I got into and the more gangs I beat up, the less they laughed. As the years passed, more and more guys joined, and when there were some fools who impersonated us, we beat them up. In my last year of middle school, the Red Hounds had ruled the streets."

"You left them after you graduated high school, though," Izaya pointed out.

"Yes, as much as I had enjoyed my time then, I grew bored of the gang life," her smile had no mirth, "It was exciting at first, but I got used to it soon enough. That's how I learned that if you want to escape the mundane, you must constantly evolve, whether you're aiming higher or lower," legs swinging under her, she gazed down at the city, "As you can see, I chose to go 'lower'."

"That's when you decided to become an assassin," the brunet realised.

"Not immediately, but that's what happened eventually," she confirmed, "By the time I entered university, I was already an assassin."

Izaya swung his knees under him, staring at the glittering city, before he leaned back and tipped his head to face the starless sky. The moonlight caressed his face, tinting his scarlet eyes with a hint of silver. The corners of his mouth were tugged down into a frown.

He turned to face her, "Why are you telling me this?"

She shrugged, "I felt like sharing."

"I could use this against you," he said, half-serious.

"You won't," 'Benihime' stated confidently, "I trust you."

His hands clenched the railing they were sitting on tighter, "I have never done anything to warrant your trust."

"I suppose that's true," the underground freelancer agreed easily, "Yet it is given freely anyway."

The brunet stared at her dubiously, before he shook his head and sighed, gazing at the city once more. "I don't understand you," he murmured, frowning as he remembered Shizuo. "I don't understand _both_ of you. You're as impossible as him."

"Oh? There's someone else?" the older brunette leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity, "Who is it? Who is it, Nakura-kun?"

"None of your business," Izaya grumbled, but his protest lacked its usual vehemence.

The ex-assassin gave a theatrical sigh, "Ah, Nakura-kun, you're _so_ cruel, leaving an old woman hanging like that. Kids these days are so rude."

A faint smirk traced over his lips, "The current generation was raised by the past one. If it's like that, who is to blame for the current generation's problems?"

She laughed again, but this time there was genuine humour in her voice, unlike when she talked about her past. Without meaning to, his smirk transformed into a smile.

 _Look at what you do to me, Shizu-chan._

"What changed then?" Izaya asked when her laughter had settled down into soft chuckles, "What made you like this?"

"What changed?" Chocolate eyes met scarlet ones, a smile gracing her lips as she leaned forward and whispered into his ears, as if imparting an important lesson. Her words would continue to echo in his mind throughout the night, even after she left and he returned to his house.

" _I met someone who I love more than I hated myself."_

* * *

 **FUN FACTS**

* * *

 **1.** The chapter title _'Intermission 3 – Lost in Thoughts All Alone'_ is a reference to the song sung in Fire Emblem Fates, _Lost in Thoughts All Alone._ I picked Nohr for my first playthrough (and married Xander *sighs happily*). What about you guys?

 **2.** ' _Tonight, the stars on the ground were simply light to him.'_ – I know that the reason why it's difficult to see stars in the city is because of light pollution and smog, but I find it pretty poetic that the stars in the sky became harder and harder to see after we are able to produce our own 'light' on the ground. When I think of it like that, I can't help but think: _There are no more stars in the sky, because they have all come down to the earth._ And also, when you look at a city at night from a high vantage point, doesn't the lights from below look like constellations?

 **3.** "… _if you want to escape the mundane, you must constantly evolve, whether you're aiming higher or lower,"_ – I'm sure everyone knows this quote. It's from Izaya in Canon, spoken to Mikado after the first Dollars meeting.

Ironically, I think _(you guys may refute this if you wish)_ Izaya's the only character in the series that doesn't really develop. I mean, Shizuo gained some self-control _(which is a_ _ **big**_ _thing considering his penchant for violence)_ , Celty grew to accept losing her head and reciprocated Shinra's love _(and considering that her head was the_ _ **reason**_ _she went to Japan in the first place, and that she had spent_ _ **20 years**_ _looking for it…)_ , Anri came to believe that even though she has Saika, she can still be accepted by others _(just look at her interactions with Erika, or Celty, or the Van Gang. It's so cute!)_ and other characters grow and develop for better or worse. They _evolved_.

Izaya though…he's still the same as he's always been. He _doesn't evolve_ , and if you guys read the novels or the summary of the Izaya spin-off novel, then you know what happened to him.


	14. Building Bridges

_Equivalent exchange,_

 _Give something to receive something,_

 _Love for love,_

 _Kindness for kindness,_

 _Trust for trust,_

 _That is the law of this world._

* * *

Chapter 10: Building Bridges

* * *

 **[FINAL WEEK]**

No one attacked him on his way to school.

It had been that way since last week, after that day on the rooftop where Izaya had declared he 'gave up'. Shizuo wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that, but he had the creeping suspicion that he had 'won' this strange, unsaid 'game' with unstated rules that Izaya had imposed on them. Perhaps that was why the brunet seemed somewhat adrift recently? He was reasonably sure that the red-eyed teen didn't know that he was aware their 'game'—which made sense given that even Shizuo didn't believe himself to be particularly smart and often surprised himself when he was struck with the occasional burst of insight—and that must have frustrated him to some degree. And yet Izaya didn't act hostile at all since that day; his taunts lacked its usual bite, his smirks were less sharp, and his gaze wandered less to the courtyard and more to him, though that usually happened whenever the other thought he wasn't looking. He wondered what he was thinking, if this was another 'game' of his, or if Izaya truly was as confused as he looked.

 _(And if the latter was true, why was that?)_

Tch, how annoying it was that nothing was certain when it came to Izaya.

As much as he tried to understand him, Izaya's thoughts were still a mystery to him. He could accept that to a degree; after all, he couldn't understand most of Shinra's ramblings nor the reasons why Tom stuck with him throughout middle school. Neither could he understood why his mother wasn't ashamed of him for all the shame he brought to their family nor the expensive bills she had to pay, which was the reason she returned to the underworld as a freelancer again. He didn't know what he did to gain Kasuka's silent, unwavering support and respect either, but he was grateful for all of them all the same.

Still, at least all of them were open and honest about their thoughts.

With Izaya though, even his thoughts were a commodity, something which would only be given if something of equal value was offered. _Information for information,_ Shizuo thought, frowning contemplatively as he kicked a pebble. It ricocheted off a lamp post, leaving a sizeable dent against the steel. _Power for power._

 _("Never forget, Shizu-chan," his mother smiled down upon him, chocolate eyes as sharp as her signature switchblade and yet as warm as the milk she made him whenever he had a nightmare. "Information is power.")_

But was he willing to do it? Was he seriously willing to offer something, _anything,_ up to someone _that_ shady, _that_ sly, _that_ untrustworthy?

 _Ah, fuck it._

Releasing a sigh, he ran a hand over his hair and tilted his face to the sky. Cloudless, bright blue greeted him, so radiant in its brilliance that he had to squint to see it. Above him was the vast heavenly blue, an expanse of pure firmament that stretched above him. And yet, for all its radiance and brightness…it felt empty without the clouds.

 _A relationship is more than talking and hanging out. Anyone could do that if it's like that. Whether it's platonic, familial, or romantic, a relationship is a two-way thing. Like…_

Like a string; an invisible connection that only he could see _(and even that was rare)_.

 _If you pull a string taut, and then picked it, the vibrations would reverberate throughout the entire length, until both ends could feel it._

 _Sometimes, you don't even have to pull the string taut to make a vibration._

He nodded to himself, a newfound resolve settling deep in his chest as his gaze slid back to the earth. Ahead of him, the opened metal gates of the school felt like a portent of a challenge.

 _If he's not going to take initiative, then I'll have to do it._

 _After all, you need to trust before you can get trusted, right?_

Heiwajima Shizuo really hoped it was true.

* * *

It wasn't rare for the blond to seek Izaya out during breaks, but this was the first time he did so with no intent to chase him down and punch him.

He stood in front of the brunet's classroom. _1-C,_ the plaque at the door read, seemingly mocking him for his indecisiveness. He could tell that he was making a wave in the regular flow of students from the way his peers slowed to peer over their shoulders and bowed their heads to whisper at each other, their soft-spoken and hushed words cresting into a dull, indescribable thrum against the back of his head. They were looking at him, judging him, wondering and wondering, and whispering to themselves with their glances and stares: _Why are you here? Why is the monster here?_

He's been wondering the same thing himself.

That was the problem with Izaya. If the brunet thought that he was unpredictable, then Shizuo would say the same thing about him. Even as he tried to reach out and grasp him, even guided with the occasional flashes of insight and glimpses at the cracks in his mask, his thoughts remained as unknown as ever, and irritated Shizuo. If he was anybody else, if he was living another life, then he would have hated Izaya.

Orihara Izaya was very easy to hate.

 _Half of the things he says are meaningless, and half of that means something else, and half of_ _ **that**_ _means the opposite of what he actually says._

Tch, this indecisiveness was unbecoming of him. With a grit of his teeth, Shizuo knocked on the door once before sliding it open and stepping into the suddenly quiet classroom.

 _You can only trust 1/8 of the things he says. To anyone else, that 1/8 is too little. To anyone else, that 1/8 means that you can't trust him._

The blond ignored the stillness in the air, thick and heavy like being underwater, as if gravity had pressured the surroundings into silence. He walked straight to Izaya's desk, situated at the very back and right next to the window, where the red-eyed teen sat, watching him like a cat observing a mouse. The blond stopped in front of his desk, looking down at him with a frown, ignoring the soundless panic behind him as the other students flailed and ran, assuming from experience that another fight was about to break out, and leaving them alone in an empty classroom. To his frown, the brunet offered up a smirk at him, unperturbed by his sudden appearance, his head tilted on the upturned palm of his hand indicating curiosity.

 _But…_

"Now look at what you've done," Izaya purred, silky smooth and honey-sweet, fanning the beginning of his violent haze. "You've scared them, Shizu-chan. Though I suppose that makes sense. Monsters should be feared, after all, and it's only normal for them to run away from you."

Just because he 'gave up' did not mean that the brunet was any less irritating. Shizuo could feel a headache begin to build, the red haze that preluded rage playing at the corners of his vision. _Deep breaths,_ he thought, taking in one, two, breaths, before scowling down at the grinning brunet.

"You didn't, though," Shizuo said, grabbing the chair in front of Izaya and spinning it to face him, before sitting on it.

 _Something is better than nothing, right? 1/8 doesn't equal 0. Maybe it's for nothing. Maybe nothing will come out of it. Or maybe, and I'm saying this very cautiously, maybe something will. Because…_

 _One does not need to be cruel to be lonely. It may be that one was lonely, and so became cruel._

 _Better to be hurt than be alone._

The returning grin held sharpness reminiscent of the daggers that he remembered his mother showed him. _This is our family heirloom,_ she had said, carefully showing him the pair of white daggers tied to brilliant red ropes. _It was a gift, perhaps even a promise to our ancestor,_ she had explained, watching him carefully as he slid a finger against the blood-red kanji of their surname engraved on the pristine blade, _once lost, but found again by your Great Grandfather, who had also met its maker._

"That's because I'm not afraid of monsters, Shizu-chan," he replied haughtily.

"Didn't you say that being afraid of monsters is what normal humans do?" He questioned back, the weight of a frown heavy on his mouth, "Then why aren't you afraid of me?"

 _(He remembered asking his mother about the maker of those daggers. Her answer was…)_

Izaya laughed, high and mocking. "Oh, Shizu-chan," he grinned, "Isn't it obvious? I'm not like those humans. You can even say that I'm above them."

"Or maybe," Shizuo hazarded, the red haze playing against his vision, "You're different. I've said it before, right? You're like me. A monster."

 _("It was a monster who made it, Shizu-chan.")_

There—a flinch, one so miniscule and well-hidden that he would have missed it if he wasn't looking for it. Izaya's grin lost its edge, and his responding taunt lacked its usual bite. "I'm not a monster, Shizu-chan," the brunet said through a smile that was as fake as his words, "Unless you suddenly forgot, _you're_ the monster here."

He shrugged, the red haze creeping into his vision dissipating a bit at the crack in Izaya's façade. "I know what I am," Shizuo said, less angry and more resigned. Amber eyes gazed at the brunet curiously, "I wonder – do you?"

 _("A monster made it?" he had asked, young and disbelieving but daring to hope.)_

"What are you here for?" Izaya asked instead, cutting off his question with one of his one. He wanted to insist on an answer, but seeing the line of the brunet's gaze aimed at the courtyard outside, pointedly avoiding his stare, Shizuo knew that he wouldn't be able to force anything out of him right now.

"Ah, well…" the blond stammered, a little nervous now that he wasn't being as openly confrontal as before. Shizuo was used to hostility, to aggression and violence, that he often found himself off-balanced and self-doubting when faced with something that required a little bit more delicacy than usual. "You see—well, the midterm exams are coming up, and before that there's lots of exams, and—"

The brunet huffed a breath, sounding both bemused and amused at the same time, "Get to the point, Shizu-chan."

"Well, I was wondering…" he bit his lip, hoping he wasn't wrong in placing his trust on someone who told the truth only 1/8 of the time, "I was wondering, if you can help me study for them."

 _("Of course," his mother replied, smiling down on him and ruffling his hair, "Monsters can build and make things too!")_

Izaya blinked, and if he was anyone else, Shizuo thought that he would be gaping. As it was, the brunet only scrutinised him for a moment before asking, "Is that really what you came here for?"

The blond nodded as his reply.

The crimson-eyed _(as red as the ropes and kanji adorning the white daggers of his family heirloom, Shizuo noticed for the first time)_ teen leaned back against his chair, shaking his head as he pinned him under his gaze. Huffing a laugh, Izaya said, "You're impossible."

Shizuo grinned, because that wasn't a _'no'_ and if half of the things he said were meaningless, and half of _that_ meant something else, and half of _**that**_ meant the opposite thing, then in Izaya-speak, what the brunet _really_ meant was: _'Yes.'_

Trust was the foundation of the bridge which we called 'relationship', right? And if so, then he was on the right direction, was he?

Heiwajima Shizuo really hoped he was right.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

I'M REALLY, REALLY SORRY I DIDN'T UPDATE LAST WEEK! TT^TT

You see, I have exams the entire week last week, so I couldn't find the time to write, let alone post this. To make it up to you guys, I'll be posting 3 or 4 chapters this week! :D

On another note…

Aaaaaaagh…Izaya, why must you be so confusing to write!? T^T

 **1.** ' _Half of the things he says are meaningless, and half of that means something else, and half of_ _ **that**_ _means the opposite of what he actually says.'_ – I did the mental math. ½ x ½ x ½ = 1/8. It's…really…*mentally screaming at Izaya*. No wonder Canon!Shizuo distrusts Canon!Izaya…when you're faced with someone _that_ confusing, of course you're going to dislike them. *sweatdrop*

 **2.** More world-building and backstory making! The first mention of Great Grandfather Heiwajima was in the previous Intermission, and now here's a little tidbit on their family heirloom: a pair of white daggers tied to red ropes, with their surname engraved on the blade. Seriously, between Namiko's ex-assassin days, Kasuka's stoicness, Shizuo's strength and strange ability to see glimpses of invisible strings, and now _this…_ What's up with the Heiwajima family? Are any of them really, you know, _normal?_ You'll see later on… ^_^

On that note, this story is veering more and more into AU territory, so be prepared for things and events that weren't in Canon, kay?

Lastly, with this, I'm ending the first arc. Well, to be honest, the past 14 chapters (including this one) were more of a set-up to a bigger plot. Like an introduction, more like it… (what kind of story takes 14 chapters as introduction!?) Aaaaah…I have a _plan_ for this story but it keeps writing itself and I don't know whether to be really happy, or really, really confused. Ah well, I hope you guys like it so far! ^_^


	15. Prelude: History in Snow

_This is a story of connections._

— _A tangled web of connections._

 _A red-eyed boy who loved humanity._

 _A bleached-blond boy with monstrous strength._

 _A brunet prodigy who fell in love with a fairy._

 _A headless woman searching for her head._

 _An ordinary boy who got dragged into the extraordinary._

 _A girl who seek escape from the mundane reality._

 _A pair of twins who were more than they seemed. A stoic brother who steadfastly supported his family. A loving mother who was once an assassin feared in all Japan._

 _Further tangled into this intricate web was a pair of children from Saitama. A little girl from an antique shop. The younger brother of a certain gang leader. A woman who possessed a demon blade. Yakuza executives, colour gangs, and even…gods._

 _Humans. Monsters. Gods._

 _Everyone was connected by a string that they cannot see. Threads whose pulls we called fate. Links in a complex, infinite chain._

 _This is a story of connections._

— _A tangled web of connections._

 _Now the stage has been set. It's time to draw the curtains up, let the players enter, and the tale be told._

 _A tale that had been centuries in the making._

 **[Excerpt from Tsukumoya Shinichi's Private Blog]**

* * *

Prelude: History in Snow

* * *

 **[PRESENT DAY, OKINAWA ISLAND]**

Sitting on the front porch of his home and breathing in the scent of the sea, a certain old man felt _peace_.

 _("'Peaceful Island,'" that creature had explained, laughing a little laugh, "To remind her descendants of where they came from. Or at least that's what_ _ **she**_ _said.")_

 _Is this the peace which my ancestor named us for?_ He asked to the memory of the being who had changed his life, smiling down softly at the monochromatic photos in his lap. The creature in the photograph grinned back at him, the same mischievous and cunning smile he remembered from his youth. He traced the smile with a weary hand. _Ah, if only you are here, then I could ask you in person. Where are you, my friend?_

It was a question that hadn't received an answer for many decades, and while he was certain he wouldn't get one now, the war veteran couldn't help asking anyway.

Heiwajima Yukine lived a peaceful life; one befitting of the surname engraved on the white blades of his family heirloom which he had given away to his son, and passed down to his granddaughter. It wasn't always this way though. A long time ago—a _century_ , in fact—he had been living a very different life, one where he couldn't even dream of a different ending other than one in the gutters, cold and alone. It all changed when he met _that being._

 _(That moment in the snow—where the ordinary met the extraordinary—would forever be engraved in his memory.)_

That fateful day—his first encounter with the supernatural.

 _(The first time he met a monster.)_

* * *

 **[MEIJI ERA: 1906, SOMEWHERE IN TOKYO]**

He was ten years old when his life changed.

It was a frigid, snowy January, on the eve of a New Year's celebration. Cold and miserable, he was a child of the streets; born without a home, raised without parents, and educated without teachers. What he knew, he gleaned from those around him, from overheard tales of caution and years of observing others struggle to live past today, learning what he could from their failures and promising to himself that he wouldn't make the same mistakes they did. He would succeed where they failed, and if not, at least burned a mark on the world to indicate his passing.

But for now, he sat on the stairs of a shrine, curled in on himself in a weak attempt to deflect the cold, shivering harshly as he observed the mass of people heading back to their warm homes with hungry, hazel-brown eyes.

 _One day,_ he promised to himself, _I'll have all that and more._

A couple in Western clothing caught his eye. Ever since Japan had opened its borders, there had been an influx of Western trade coming in and out of Tokyo. Owning Western things—be it clothes, vases, or accessories—became the new trend among the populace, an indicator of one's social status. And the couple he was eyeing right now—with their ruby-gold necklace and fleece jackets and gleaming pocket watch—looked very rich indeed.

 _(Personally, he found it all tacky, but at least it was expensive to sell.)_

He followed them to their home, shadowing their trail until the passed through a tall, mahogany gate. He watched as the gate closed behind them, clutching his stomach in a vain attempt to ward off the hunger pangs. Once he felt an appropriate amount of time had passed, he crossed the paved road and climbed the gate.

Bare fingers trembled, numbed by the frost covering the gate, but he persevered and pushed himself on top of it.

After that, it was all a matter of climbing down and sneaking into the mansion.

Thankfully, there were no dogs. He had overheard enough nightmarish stories from unfortunate thieves to know that it was best to run when dogs were involved _(unless you had meat, but if you had it, then why the hell would you toss it away?)_. There were a few guards though, walking around the perimeter with the glow of their lanterns lighting their sleepy faces, but the thick clouds which had heralded snow covered the moon, and in the darkness of its shadow, he found refuge as he slid open a side door and slipped inside.

It was warmer inside than outside.

The corridors were, fortunately, dark, the guards who were in charge of this area having left to patrol other parts of the mansion. For a while, he wandered aimlessly, pressing a hand against his stomach in a weak attempt to subdue its growling. _Where's the kitchen?_ He wondered, carefully eyeing each corner as if something was about to jump out at him, footsteps as light as possible like the ninjas he overheard from tales whispered from mother to child. _Or the pantry. Or the cellar. Or anywhere they store food?_

Randomly, he chose a door and opened it, making sure to slide it sideways slowly to prevent any creaking. It took him a moment for his eyesight to adjust to the darkness, but even then it was hard to make out the objects in the room. At least, he was certain it wasn't the bedroom, as he couldn't hear any snoring. Still, it wasn't the pantry, as he couldn't smell any food.

 _Perhaps there's something valuable here?_

Cautiously, he stepped into the room. Placing a hand on the wall, the boy carefully and slowly groped around, his senses on high alert. Heart thumping loudly in his ears, he almost flinched and jerked back when he touched something cool. Quickly, he drew away, hand clutching his heart and eyes wide as if by doing so he could see better in the dark. A moment passed—one long minute which spanned eternity for the nervous young boy—and when nothing happened, courage slowly seeped back into his bones, thawing the cold nervousness which froze his movements. Warily, he reached out again, tracing the edge of cool metal.

 _It's a blade,_ he realised. _A dagger._

Not just one, but _two._ A pair of twin daggers lain on top of a plush pillow, like an offering on an altar to an unknown god.

He grinned.

 _This must be really expensive…_

He swiped the pair of daggers from its resting place, belatedly realising that some sort of rope was wound around its handles. He couldn't pocket them though, as he didn't want any more tears or holes in his only set of clothes, and instead carefully cradled them against his chest. Hazel-brown eyes swept across the dark room, and he briefly wondered if he should explore more, before dismissing the idea.

The downfall of thieves was their greed, and he had promised himself that he would be different.

Quietly, he sneaked out the same way he came in, making sure to close all the doors he opened. Only after he climbed over the gate and ran back to the alley he called home did he release a breath of relief, the tense knot in his chest easing as he returned to familiar territory. Still clutching his prize to his chest, he grinned through his shivers, leaning back against the frost-specked wall and sliding down to the snow-covered ground.

 _Just make it through today,_ he cheered himself, knees to his chest in a vain attempt to gain some warmth as he inspected the daggers, _Tomorrow, I'll sell these for some bread._

He wondered how many bread he could buy from selling these. In the faint prickle of moonlight which the thick clouds allowed through, he could see that the blades were beautiful. Even his untrained eye could tell that they were exquisitely made. The entirety of the daggers was pure white: from the tip of the blade all the way to the base of its pommel, made from some kind of material that felt surreal. The whiteness were only broken by streaks of red _(like blood, like fire),_ forming the strokes of some character he couldn't read _(never had the chance to learn)_. A long piece of thin, brilliant-red rope was attached to each of the dagger's pommels, and was wound around their handles. He fingered the rope, its smoothness a sharp contrast to the roughness he was used to.

"My, my," a voice purred, the sound so soft and melodious that he was instantly on alert. "What do we have here?"

He jerked, clutching his prize to his chest and glaring up at the speaker. The speaker merely raised an eyebrow in response, seemingly amused by his reaction. The colourful paper umbrella which was placed over one shoulder protected the speaker's from the snow's downfall, and the shadow they casted over him as they knelt down and leaned forward enveloped him in a darkness which made it hard to see. Heart thumping loudly in his ears, he prepared himself to run.

Then, the clouds shifted and the moon shone down.

His heart stopped for a second, before it beat twice as fast as before.

The…creature, for lack of better word, was _beautiful_. Like the daggers he cradled in his arms. They took the shape of a woman, one in the prime of her youth. Blacker than the night and just as velvety, her hair was tied up in a sinuous loose bun, some of it coming lose to frame a lovely face. Her fashion was odd, for instead of the Western clothing the mass wore, she donned a sweeping, elegant kimono, the kind he imagined queens or empresses or goddesses wear. The fabric was a pure, untainted white, like the daggers in his arms, with prancing foxes and dancing flames stitched on it, the needlework so elegantly done that it looked as if they were moving whenever she shifted. And yet, more than her strange appearance, more than her overwhelming presence, what caught his attention was the curve of her lips and the light in her eyes.

Red _(like fire, like blood)_ and a cunning, mischievous smirk.

Somehow, he knew that she wasn't human.

"W-what are you!?" he shrieked, scooting back as fast as he could. The red-eyed being simply regarded him curiously, still smiling that same, mysterious smile.

"You could tell I wasn't human?" she hummed, tilting her head to the side to observe his shaking form. "Hmm, either I'm being forgetful, or…"

Faster than he could blink, she lunged, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards her. With a cry, he toppled before her, the daggers he clutched falling to the snow in his surprise. Frightened, he looked up, expecting some kind of pain or retribution for stealing what was obviously hers, but the creature paid him no heed, and instead looked at the daggers with an expression that seemed…

 _Sad?_

In the moonlight, her expression softened, brilliant crimson eyes darkened with a heavy emotion he couldn't name. The edges of her smirk relaxed, though her lips remained curled upwards, albeit lopsidedly and gentle, into something he might called 'bittersweet'.

The colourfully painted paper umbrella was closed and laid on the snowy ground beside her, relieving her of one hand. Snow drifted down onto her hair, the shoulders of her kimono, but she ignored the cold it brought. She raised her free hand over the daggers, the long sleeves of her kimono barely brushing the snow, and sinuous, pure-white fire dripped down her fingers like liquid heat, curling around the daggers to float it to eye-level.

"Where did you get this, boy?" the creature asked, most of her attention rapt on the daggers. Although the grip on his wrist was gentle, he had no illusion that if she wanted to, she could yank his arm off his socket.

"I-I stole it!" He cried, blinking back tears as fear clawed icy tendrils into his heart. "I-I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!"

The being blinked, as if the thought never occurred to her, and shifted her crimson gaze onto him. He flinched, trying and failing to curl in on himself in a vain attempt to protect himself from her scrutiny. Then, suddenly, the creature released her grip on his wrist and, with a sigh, patted him on the head.

"I'm not going to kill you," she said, moon-bathed pale hand sliding across his mop of brown hair. "I was simply curious. I gave this to my friend's son a very long time ago, and I haven't seen her descendants in an equally long time. I must admit, I never thought I would see these daggers again."

The hand on his head stilled, before moving back to brush his bangs aside. "Hmm…I wonder…" she mused to herself, red eyes locked onto his hazel ones, "You seem like a normal human. I can't sense any great power or aura to speak of, and yet you can tell that I'm not human, even though I disguised myself. Are you one of hers, I wonder? That would explain why the daggers' enhancements would work on you. I made it so that the daggers' special abilities could only be accessed by those possessing her blood," her lips curved up into a mysterious smile, "Why don't we test it to make sure?"

"W…what are you going to do?" he stammered, frozen under the sharpness of her gaze.

The hand summoning the white flames twisted, and one of the daggers floated to her palm. The other blade remained aloft, held in place in mid-air by the silent whirl of fire.

"It's going to be a bit painful," she answered, pointing the tip of the dagger in her hand to him, "I want you to prick your finger on this. If you truly are one of hers, then it should react. If you're not, then nothing will happen."

"And-and what will you do to me if nothing happens?" he asked nervously, eyeing the blade warily.

The creature shrugged. "I'll let you go, of course," was her reply simple reply, "And I'll take the daggers too."

"You…won't hurt me…right?" Timidly, the young boy questioned.

"No," she shook her head, smiling down gently at him. "Don't worry, you'll be left alone the same way I met you."

Without realising it, he heaved a breath of relief. He was pretty sure that he wasn't the descendant of whoever befriended this strange being. That would be too coincidental, too serendipitous, and he wasn't one to believe in fate or such things. With the knowledge that he would be unharmed calming his heart, he slowly raised a hand and pricked his finger on the blade.

The dagger glowed white in response to his blood.

Eyes wide, the young boy quickly drew his arm back, clutching his hand to his chest. He stared in fright at the dagger, watching it as its glow dissipated under the moonlight, before his gaze jumped away in surprise at hearing the other's chuckle. Looking at the creature-in-a-woman's-form, he saw the weight of her lips lightened, curving upwards into a smile.

"So I was right," she murmured, gaze moving from the dagger to him, hand resuming its glide across his scalp. "You _are_ her descendant."

"Wha-what are you going to do to me?" he asked, his heart thrumming loud and fast once again in his ears.

The hand on his head stopped its patting as she smiled down on him and stood up, picking up the colourful paper umbrella and opening it in one sweeping, graceful move which sent the flames embroidered onto her kimono shimmering and the prancing foxes dancing. The hand holding the umbrella tipped slightly towards him, protecting him from the falling snow as well. With a flick of her wrist, white flames flickered into existence, curling around the daggers and bringing into his line of sight.

"First, take these. It's your birthright, after all," she said, her voice a cheerful chirp which matched her smile. "Second, let's go to my place. I can't let Shizu-chan's descendant die out here in the cold. What kind of friend would I be then, ne?"

Gaping, he blinked at her offer, looking up at the figure washed in moonlight before him. The moon formed a halo behind her, its silvery radiance lending her an ethereal glow. With the gentle smile on her face, with the dichotomy of sharpness and softness in her crimson gaze, with the white, soundless fire playing around her, between her, offering an invitation he couldn't believe—the creature before him looked every bit extraordinary.

He gasped, still kneeling on the snow. "What _are_ you?"

"A kitsune," she answered, then chuckled to herself, "A monster."

A slim, pale hand was extended before him, palms up in a wordless offer.

He looked at her hand, then at the daggers held afloat by dancing flames, and thought: _Do I really want this?_

 _What else can you do?_ He answered back, _Wait here in the cold to die, dreaming of a chance at success that would never come? This may be my only chance to escape this sort of life._

 _Kitsunes are known for their trickery._

 _But there are also tales about their loyalty. If you respect them then they would do no harm to you._

 _Should I do this? Should I trust her?_

His gaze dropped to the snow-covered ground. _No. That's not what I should be asking. Do I want to continue living like this?_

 _It's a chance. A gamble. She's a stranger, but she doesn't seem to mean any harm. Maybe not yet, though…_

Shutting his eyes, he gritted his teeth and made a decision.

 _Enough! It's not like my life can get any worse than this._

Nodding determinedly at himself, he glared up at the kitsune and took her hand.

The supernatural creature smiled and pulled him up.

"Here," she said, prompting her white flames to bring up the daggers, offering it to him, "Take these. It's yours now," she then tilted her head, a look of confusion crossing her face, "Oh, we haven't exchanged names, have we? How rude of me. What's your name, child?"

He looked away, gripping the daggers so tightly, his knuckles turned white. Heat shot through his cheeks as he mumbled, "…I don't have one."

She blinked, twirling the paper umbrella over their heads. "No?" she canted her head, "Well then, would you like a name? I can give you one if you like."

"…Sure."

The kitsune smiled, her lips curving into a grin wide enough to narrow her eyes and closed her red gaze. "How about Yukine, then?"

 _Yukine…_ he tasted the name in his mind, repeating it over and over as he tried to wrap his head over the idea. _Yukine…_

"I like it…" he— _Yukine_ —replied, giving her a small, shy smile at last. "Thank you, Kitsune-san."

"Don't mention it, Yuki-kun!" she grinned, before her eyes widened theatrically and said, "Ah, but don't call me 'Kitsune-san'! You're a descendant of Shizu-chan, so you have the right to call me by my name. Oh, but don't use 'san' either, alright? It makes me sound so _old_."

"If you insist," Yukine answered back, his brows furrowing in confusion. "But you haven't told me your name."

"I haven't, have I?" She asked rhetorically, laughing lightly at herself, "Well, you may call me…"

The kitsune grinned, brilliant red eyes sparkling.

"Orihara Kanra."

* * *

 **[PRESENT DAY, OKINAWA ISLAND]**

Heiwajima Yukine sighed, smiling to himself as he basked in the warmth of the sunset.

Time often lost him whenever he dwelled on his memories. His first meeting with her, the lessons she taught, the extraordinary world she revealed before him. It all came back to him in a swarm, drowning him in a rush of memories, a tide which he allowed himself to be drawn to whenever he opened the photo album in his lap. Sometimes, he caught himself longing for his youth, to return to the old days before she disappeared along with her younger sister. When that happened though, he reminded himself that his kitsune friend would probably laugh at him, calling him out for falling into the trappings of old age. That always made him smile.

 _Where are you, my friend?_

It had been decades since he last saw her, much less heard from her. The last bit of news of her or her sister he received was from one of her friends, a headless horsewoman who had been looking into her disappearance.

Celty Sturluson…it had been twelve years since he last saw her. Heiwajima Yukine hoped she didn't go missing too.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

Some of you may be thinking _'What? What? Whaaaat!?'._ Like, why would Heiwajima Yukine, Shizuo's great grandfather, know Celty, or Kanra for that matter? And _whaaaat,_ Orihara Kanra is a _kitsune?_ What does that make Izaya then!? And _she's_ the maker of the daggers which became the Heiwajima's family heirloom? And also, _'Shizu-chan'_!? Who or how on earth is that linked to _everything else?_ And she _disappeared_ a long time ago? And _Celty_ was originally looking for her before she lost her head?

Well, the answer to everything and more would be revealed in later chapters. ^_^

Anyway, Tsukumoya Shinichi made his first appearance. Sort of. He'll appear later on. For now, try to guess who's who from that excerpt. I'm pretty sure it's obvious who's who now, but try it anyway. I'm curious as to your guesses.

Oh, except the ' _A girl who seek escape from the mundane reality'_ part. I don't expect anyone to know her, since she's…*laughs nervously*….an OC (please don't hurt me!). I know about the reputation of OCs, especially female OCs, so I'm really wary in creating her. It's just that, events have changed so much that there's no way this is going to lead into Canon territory, hence the OC. Actually, Heiwajima Yukine is also an OC. I don't make them up for fun, though, as they each has their own roles to play in the story. You'll see what I mean later on. I really hope you'll like my OCs. Don't worry though, the main focus is still on the slow-going Shizaya romance (and I'm not going to use her as a trigger for jealousy or anything like that, rest assure) with a side of world-building.

* * *

 **FUN FACTS**

* * *

 **1.** _Yukine_ – Yup, this is a reference to Noragami, where one of the main characters is also named Yukine. It means _'sound of snow'_.

 **2.** _Okinawa Island_ – The largest of the Okinawa Islands and Ryukyu Islands in Japan. It's also considered as one of the healthiest places in the world, and the average life expectancy of an Okinawan woman is 86 while a man's is 78. This is due to two things: their diet, and their attitude towards life. Not only do they eat healthy food, but they have a positive attitude towards life. They don't wait around for death, but instead do their best to live life as much as they could.

 **3.** _Meiji Era_ – Beginning from 1868 to 1912, this period brought about modernisation and Westernisation to the previously isolationist Japan. Around that time, many Japanese adopted Western culture and thinking, and it's a trend to wear Western clothing. That being said, wholesale Westernisation was somewhat checked in the 1880s when a renewed appreciation of traditional Japanese values emerged _._ It's also around that era that the name Edo changed into Tokyo.

 **4.** _12 years –_ Shinra first met Celty when he was 4. Considering that he's now in high school (I place him as 16 at the start of the story), it's been 12 years since Celty lost her head, and consequently, her memories.

 **5** **.** _Kitsune_ – One of the Japanese _yokai_ , a kitsune is a Japanese fox spirit. They are typically depicted as tricksters in legends, though some folktales also portray them as faithful guardians, friends, lovers and wives. Intelligent, it is said that they possessed magical abilities which increase with age. In folk stories, they are commonly depicted with one, five, seven, or nine tails.

There are two common classifications of kitsune. First are the _zenko_ , who are benevolent, celestial foxes associated with the god Inari, and typically depicted with white fur. The second type is the _yako_ , also called _nogistune,_ who are your common, mischievous foxes. Interestingly, the 16th century leader Toyotomi Hideyoshi once wrote a letter to the god Inari, saying that one of his/her foxes had bewitched his servants, and asked them to punish the fox or else he would hunt down all the foxes in the land.

A parting note before I'll end this trivia. One of the oldest surviving kitsune tales provides a widely known folk etymology of the word ' _kitsune'_. Unlike most tales of kitsune who become human and marry human males, this one does not end tragically. In it, a man named Ono met a kitsune who was disguised as a woman. The two married and had a baby, but after she was attacked by the dog he owned, the kitsune resumed her original form and fled.

 _"You may be a fox," Ono called after her, "but you are the mother of my son and I love you. Come back when you please; you will always be welcome."_

 _So every evening she stole back and slept in his arms._

Because the fox returns to her husband each night as a woman but leaves each morning as a fox, she is called Kitsune. In classical Japanese, _kitsu-ne_ means ' _come and sleep'_ , and _ki-tsune_ means ' _always comes'._

Also, some say kitsunes are afraid of dogs. Now look at the Durarara Season 2 OVA where Izaya had to climb and cling to a steel post to evade a bunch of dogs…


	16. Happiness Like Glass

_The ordinary could become the extraordinary,_

 _The natural could transform into the supernatural,_

 _What is simple and plain could turn into something incredible and beautiful,_

 _And so it goes…_

 _Happiness is like glass. It may be all around you, yet invisible,_

 _But if you change your point of view a little,_

 _Then it will reflect light,_

 _More beautifully than anything else._

* * *

Chapter 11: Happiness Like Glass

* * *

Izaya found himself settling into a new routine.

It was…odd, to say the least. Before this—before the status quo was disrupted and he yielded the game to the blond—his time was spent in goading gangs to attack Shizuo, then escaping his wrath during break, and finally taunt him at lunch. It was time spent on breaking the monster down, but despite his best attempts, the brute had easily shrugged it off and worse, somehow, unknowingly, managed to persuade Izaya into giving up his pointless experiment.

 _(It was the lunchboxes, Izaya thought, and the knowing look, and the impossible acceptance, and the—damn it—_ _ **hope**_ _of genuine friendship. It was those damnably sincere, honest amber eyes.)_

 _(Damn that monster. He was just fine before he came along.)_

And now— _now_ he was settling into a new routine.

His mornings now consisted of meeting Shizuo at the junction near their homes after he dropped off his sisters at their pre-school. The two would walk to school together, Izaya rambling on and on about some topic he found interesting that day. For his part, Shizuo nodded along and listened patiently, occasionally interjecting his words with his own, surprisingly intuitive, thoughts.

 _("Why do you like to watch people from a distance instead of meeting them up close?" the blond once asked, the cool morning breeze caressing his hair.)_

 _("The best way to gather data, Shizu-chan," he purred in reply, tone as haughty and knowing as ever, "is through covert observation. That way, you won't be biased and can observe the situation more objectively.")_

 _(His brows creased in confusion. "But you're_ _ **already**_ _manipulating variables, Izaya-kun. You're not_ _ **actually**_ _seeing people in their natural setting. Even though it's not a lab or anything, you're still sort of changing something in the environment to test your hypothesis. Doesn't that mean there's a chance for bias?")_

 _(Izaya was silent for the rest of their walk.)_

Sometimes, however, they wouldn't talk at all, and the silence which stretched between them would be comforting and companionable.

 _(It was a novel sensation.)_

At school, they would go to their respective classes: 1-C for Izaya and 1-A for Shizuo. Then, when the bell rang and signalled break time, the blond would head to his class, where his presence alone was enough to send his classmates running. Alone in the empty classroom, the two would sit facing each other and…simply hanged out.

It was the same for lunch, except during those times, it was Izaya who moved to Shizuo's classroom.

 _(Sometimes, he wondered how Shinra was doing. He hadn't really talked to the other brunet ever since he was preoccupied with the blond. But then, Shizuo would unwittingly say or do something incredibly dumb, astute, or both, surprising Izaya all over again, that the thoughts of his friend-in-name was forgotten.)_

After school, they would meet up in the hallway of the shoe lockers. Sometimes, Izaya would strike up a conversation, teasing and taunting but lacking the bite he originally had, inciting an exasperated sigh or grin or huffs of laughter from Shizuo. Other times, they would simply head out silently, the brunet always jumping up and balancing on the wall lining the streets while the blond looked on warily, ready to catch him if he so much sees a slight tremble. At the junction where they met up in the morning, the two would part, with Izaya heading to his sisters pre-school to pick them up. The next day, the cycle would repeat.

It was strangely mundane. _Ordinary_. The kind of unexciting daily life he observed in most of his beloved humans.

So…why does he feel so _content?_

 _(Happy, even, perhaps but it wasn't like him to admit it.)_

The only thing which remained the same was his nights. _Those_ remained as unpredictable as ever. _Thrilling_ in the way he met and played with so many powerful underground figures. _Exciting_ in the way he gambled life and limb at every encounter.

And yet…

It felt _lacking._

How was it that he found himself _more alive_ during the day when it used to be the other way around?

Heiwajima Shizuo. That was the only possible answer.

 _That impossible monster…_

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to hate him anymore.

Because that monster—with his homemade lunches, with his knowing looks, with his impossible acceptance, with the hope of genuine friendship, and with those damnably sincere, honest amber eyes—had somehow made him feel…

 _(Hope; something with wings in his chest, threatening to fly up his throat, and he couldn't help but be scared that the cage holding the bird inside him would break.)_

Had somehow changed his daily life into…

 _(Adventure; fun, and exciting, and interesting, even if it was something as simple as teasing and taunting Shizuo, watching as the weight of a frown settled over his lips and his brows scrunched up in frustration.)_

Had somehow turned the ordinary into something…

 _(Extraordinary; the days seemed to stretched longer despite holding the same amount of hours as before, the world a little brighter even though he knew how deep some shadows casted, and meaningless, empty chatter took on a solid weight that turned all those fleeting, ephemeral moments into sweet memories.)_

He felt…

 _(Happiness; so light and solid that it knotted something in his chest, the root of an unshakeable fear gripping his heart.)_

He was settling into a new routine, but Orihara Izaya felt as lost and adrift as ever.

* * *

The afternoon sun washed the classroom in a warm, orange glow.

He and Shizuo were the only ones left in the blond's class, the others having left as soon as they were able to. Izaya itched to leave as well—this wasn't part of the new routine and _damn it_ if Shizuo was changing the status quo again—but his… _friend (and he used the term_ _ **very**_ _reluctantly)_ asked him to stay for a bit longer, asking him if he could help him study for his history exam tomorrow.

"You know," Shizuo said without looking up from his book, the glow of the afternoon sun washing his hair in gold, "We could go to my place. It's nicer to study there than at school."

"I'm not interested in stepping into the den of a monster," he replied, idly tapping his fingers against said monster's desk, leaning his side against the window. "Besides, do you want to study or play? Since I'm tutoring you, I'm not letting you go until I'm sure you'll score _at least_ an 80."

"Then why don't we go to your place?" the blond asked, flipping a page as he ignored the brunet's half-hearted barb with ease born from experience.

 _That's even worse,_ Izaya thought. Silent, vacant rooms, a pair of sisters nagging for his attention, the near-empty fridge and cupboards, and parents who had left them years ago and didn't even have the decency to send money back to pay for the bills and food. No, he wouldn't allow Shizuo to see his 'home'. He may have yielded the game, but he would not reveal his roots so easily.

He never showed it to Shinra _(not like the brunet cared about his predicament anyway),_ and he certainly wouldn't show it to Shizuo _(they may be 'friends', but Izaya knew it was only a matter of time before the blond realised there were others worthier of his time)_. It was enough for him to cover up his weaknesses.

Besides, Izaya had been dealing it since he was nine. He didn't need anybody else.

"As if I would allow a monster into my home," Izaya retorted, "Think of my sisters! They'll be frightened to death."

 _That_ drew the blond's attention. He watched as the brute gripped the edges of his book, before forcibly releasing it, clearly trying to ignore his taunts. With a frown heavy on his lips, Shizuo finally looked up from his textbook, "You have sisters?"

"Is that so surprising?" he drawled, head resting on an upturned palm, drawing an infuriating smirk over his lips, "Though maybe you'll get along with them. They're annoying little terrors, after all."

"I didn't picture you to be the older brother type," Shizuo said, glaring a bit at him for his purposely annoying tone and brushing them off without a threat of violence at the same time, "You know, I have a younger sibling too."

"How interesting," the brunet drawled with mocking disinterest, though his grin belied his true intent, "So there's a little monster running around."

"Oh, shut _up,"_ the blond grumbled, reaching over to push him lightly. Izaya allowed his body to be swayed, back thumping against his chair as he tilted his head up and laughed at the clear lines of irritation on the other's forehead. "His name's Kasuka, three years younger than me, and he's nothing like me at all," that angry amber gaze dropped, sliding sideways towards the sun-gold gates outside, and when he spoke next, it was in a whisper, "He's not a monster."

And he didn't know _why_ he said what he said next. Perhaps it was pity? But, no, Orihara Izaya knew enough about himself to know that he was not so kind as to feel _pity_ , of all things, especially towards monsters. He didn't know what to call it though. All he knew was that, when Shizuo's amber eyes looked away, the light behind those uniquely-coloured orbs dimming with the heaviness of some emotion that looked akin to sadness but not _(Shizuo didn't appear upset of his brother; he was upset_ _ **for**_ _him, Izaya realised, for being related to a_ _ **real**_ _monster),_ the words slipped out of his tongue with all the fleetingness and heaviness of honesty.

"Well, that's fortunate for him and the world then," Izaya said, "The world's not wide enough for two Heiwajima monsters."

He could have pushed the point, could have laughed at Shizuo's face and called Kasuka a monster just to spite him. Instead, he agreed with the blond, albeit in a backhanded manner, and told him that he wasn't a monster for being related to him. The only saving grace he could hope for was that the brute would misunderstand the intention behind his words.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised when Shizuo blinked, taking a moment to absorb his reply, and smiled ruefully.

 _This Neanderthal is annoyingly, surprisingly intuitive at times._

Izaya refused to admit that the lightening of his chest—as if a heavy knot had been unwounded—was _relief._

"Yeah," the blond agreed, his smile small and soft and aggravatingly sad, "It's enough for me to be the monster."

And Izaya was left to wonder:

 _How can he reveal his weaknesses so easily?_

 _(It wasn't envy that gnawed his heart. It wasn't jealousy which dropped a stone in his chest.)_

 _(It_ _ **wasn't**_ _.)_

Good humour evaporated, Izaya looked away, towards the empty courtyard and the few drifting cherry blossoms that stubbornly persisted past the peak blooming season. He attempted to draw a smile, but his reflection on the window showed his lips forming a neutral line instead, the corners unable to curve up into his usual smirk. After a moment, he gave up, reasoning that Shizuo would be able to see through his façade anyway, as he always did, so there was no reason to even bother.

 _(A small, unacknowledged part of him was glad to be able to drop all pretences for once.)_

"When did the Meiji era ended?" he asked, glancing at the textbook in front of the blond and reaching over to closed it, "And don't even think about peeking."

"Ah," Shizuo, taken aback by the sudden shift in topic, took a moment to answer, "Is…it 1912?"

Izaya gave him an unamused look, "Are you asking or telling me?"

"No—I mean, it's 1912," the blond stammered, hesitant. Izaya found it annoying that his previous sereneness was easily turned to flustered at a simple history question when statements of his true nature as a monster didn't even ruffled him anymore.

 _Stop acting so human._

"What year was the first permanent Japanese capital established and where?"

"710, Nara."

"Which family controlled the political scene of the Heian period over several centuries through strategic intermarriages with the imperial family?"

"The Mina—no, the Fujiwara family."

"The Gempei War began and ended at what years?"

"Er…it began in 1180, and ended in…I think…1185."

The brunet glanced at the blond, observing the way his amber eyes flitted from side to side, how his teeth gnawed his bottom lip and fingers tapped against the desk; all tell-tale signs of nervousness. If his good humour hadn't disappeared, Izaya would have found it amusing that Shizuo looked more concerned at answering some history questions correctly than he did when a truck ran over him.

"Correct," Izaya said, a little grudgingly, "At all counts."

The blond's face brightened, a smile stretching over his features as the heaviness in his amber eyes lightened. Izaya told himself that it was only because of mirroring that he gained the urge to smile back.

 _(Mirroring: the theory that you mirror the facial expressions of the one you see.)_

 _(It doesn't explain the way his chest felt lighter, the emotion he refused to call 'happiness' running up his spine to fight against the control over his lips, nor the pride at himself which he refused to acknowledge because it stemmed from the fact that he could make his 'friend' smile genuinely.)_

"Are we done here?" he asked, a tad more spitefully than intended, "I have to pick up my sisters, you know."

Shizuo chuckled, as if he could see through Izaya's grousing for what it truly was. "I think so," he— _the monster_ , Izaya reminded himself—smiled, packing his book away. Sincerely, he said, "Thanks for tutoring me, Izaya-kun."

And _damn it_ , that feeling _(happiness for helping a 'friend'; pride for being the reason for another's smile)_ returned, and as much as Izaya tried to suppressed it, he couldn't prevent it from thrumming his heart and tugging his lips into a smile.

He ducked his head, looking away to avoid eye contact as he picked up his bag, mumbling, "Yeah, whatever."

Izaya could tell that Shizuo was still smiling, but he refused to look back and check.

* * *

 **FUN FACTS**

* * *

 **1\. "** _Happiness is like glass. It may be all around you, yet invisible. But if you change your point of view a little, then it will reflect light more beautifully than anything else."_ – This is a quote taken from Lelouch Lamperouge of Code Geass.

 **2.** _Peak blooming season:_ Generally, in the Honshu region (which is where Tokyo is located), the peak cherry blossoms blooming season is between late March to April (Source: .com). This chapter is set at the last week of April, so it's past the peak blooming season, though there are still some cherry blossoms.

 **3.** _710, Nara:_ Nara period **,** (ad 710–784), in Japanese history, period in which the imperial government was at Nara, and Sinicization and Buddhism were most highly developed. Nara, the country's first permanent capital, was modelled on the Chinese T'ang dynasty (618–907) capital, Ch'ang-an. (Source: Encyclopaedia Brittanica)

 **4.** _Fujiwara family:_ A dynastic family that, by shrewd intermarriage and diplomacy, dominated the Japanese government from the 9th to the 12th century. The peak of the Fujiwara power and glory happened when Fujiwara Michinaga took rein, though after his death, the influence of the Fujiwara family begun to decline. (Source: Encyclopaedia Brittanica)

 **5.** _Gempei War:_ Taking place from 1180 to 1185, it was the final struggle in Japan between the Taira and Minamoto clans that resulted in the Minamoto's establishment of the Kamakura shogunate, a military dictatorship that dominated Japan from 1192-1333 (Source: Encyclopaedia Brittanica)

 **6.** _Mirroring:_ Mirroring body language is a way to bond and to build understanding. It is a powerful tool that we use instinctively without even being aware of it. The most obvious forms of mirroring are yawning and smiling. When you see someone yawn, or even if you just read the word "yawn", you are likely to yawn immediately, or during next 30 seconds. Smiling is also pretty contagious – seeing a smiling person makes you want to smile too, and as a result you will feel better, even if you were not feeling particularly happy in the beginning. (Source: Psychologia)

My headcanon is that Izaya likes to read psychology books because he's _very_ interested in humans. Hence, his knowledge about things like 'mirroring' and other psychological concepts. This makes me happy because as a psychology major I can show off what I learnt. ^_^


	17. Another Side, Another Story (1)

_I'm tired of the same boring day,_

 _A prison-like routine, a cage-like cycle,_

 _Nothing changes, everything repeats,_

 _I'm tired of looking up at the same empty sky,_

 _To shatter the chains of the ordinary, I shall reach for the extraordinary._

* * *

Another Side, Another Story – Hirabayashi Tomone

* * *

Hirabayashi Tomone loved the supernatural.

To be more precise, she _loved_ anything related to the unusual and extraordinary.

When her peers ran away whenever Heiwajima Shizuo raged, the short-haired brunette would watch with rapt attention, hands pressed against the cool glass of the window and eyes wide with wonder as she saw the blond ripped up a steel pole from the ground and used it as a makeshift bat. It wasn't love, contrary to what her classmates half-joked, half-gossiped. It wasn't even anywhere _near_ infatuation. No, if the curly-haired girl had to give her feelings a name, it would be _'admiration'_.

Tomone greatly admired Shizuo for transcending the limits of humanity.

And it didn't end with the blond.

The Black Rider, too, was a target for her silent admiration. In fact, they were the _first_ one she admired. The skill it took to drive a headlight-less pitch-black motorcycle at night, dodging the traffic police and performing seemingly impossible feats…what wasn't to admire from that? Whenever she was on the streets, she would be on alert for the low, near-silent sound of neighing, the portent for the Black Rider's appearance, and would rush towards the road to catch a glimpse of that black-clad being when she heard it.

Tomone greatly admired the Black Rider for being a tangible sign of something beyond humanity.

 _(It was more than that, though. More than admiration, she felt indebted to the Black Rider, grateful for their appearance. If it wasn't for the Black Rider, if she didn't saw them…)_

 _(She would have been a splatter on the concrete.)_

Heiwajima Shizuo, the Black Rider, the legendary assassin Benihime, the increasing incidents revolving the mysterious Slasher…

Hirabayashi Tomone admired them all.

 _(One could even say that she was a fan.)_

* * *

All things considered, Raijin Academy was a pleasant enough high school.

It was also _(save for the sole reason she entered it in the first place)_ completely, utterly _boring._

Hirabayashi Tomone wasn't a genius like that Kishitani Shinra in her class, nor was she as cunning or perceptive as Orihara Izaya from 1-C, but she could easily gain passable grades without really trying. 70s, 80s…she never got anything over 90s but compensated for that by never receiving a score lower than 60. In the school ranks she was somewhere in the upper-middle rankings, an acceptable average for her, but one which nit-picking parents frowned upon and teachers sighed because _'It's good but not good enough, Hirabayashi-san. Surely you can do better. Don't you want to go to a prestigious university?'_

No. No, she _didn't_ , but that was a rhetorical question that wasn't worth an answer.

 _(It wasn't like her teachers actually cared. They were just worried about their image. Here's a girl from a pair of genius scientists and you couldn't do anything to bring forth the potential she_ _ **must**_ _had inherited?)_

Tomone didn't _care_ about school.

To be honest, if she really tried, she could have easily entered another school. If she had the motivation to, she could have easily aced the entrance exams to any prestigious high school, like, say, the Elizabeth Girl Academy, but there was _nothing_ for her there. Nothing that offered to pump her blood and shoot thrill down her veins, nothing jaw-dropping or awe-inspiring that could make her think that, maybe, there were some mysteries left in this world that's interesting enough to pursue.

 _(Nothing that would make her think that life was worth living.)_

Then, she heard that Heiwajima Shizuo—budding Monster of Ikebukuro—was going to enter Raijin Academy.

For that reason alone she enrolled into the same high school.

 _(As a lover of the extraordinary, Tomone was unusually sharp in picking up incredulous rumours.)_

 _Still,_ she mused as she meandered through the streets of Ikebukuro with no set destination in mind, the orange glow of the setting sun darkening her brown hair into coffee-dark, _it's getting kinda dull…_

The beginning of the school year had been exciting. In the midst of cherry blossoms, she watched from the sidelines as the blond monster-in-human-shell tore through dozens of boys and gangs on a near-daily basis, the blood they spilled mingling with the pale pink of the falling petals. Grinning from ear to ear as he ripped steel poles and threw tables with ease. Her classmates, who had caught her staring excitedly at the window, completely ignoring the chatter all around her and watching the courtyard as she saw the blond smashed a table where the infamous Orihara Izaya had sat with a video camera in hand, half-seriously joked that she was in love with him. Tomone had laughed at their ignorance and continued to watch the pair until they disappeared from her sight.

What she felt wasn't love, but admiration; a deep, profound respect towards someone who had went above and beyond the trappings of the ordinary.

 _(Even if she tried explaining it to them, Tomone knew it wouldn't matter. Once people put you in a box, then you were often stuck in it, and the brunette didn't find it worth the effort to change the opinion of those she wouldn't remember after graduation.)_

But now, in the last weeks of April, the number of fights Shizuo had gotten into—and therefore, the number of fights she watched—was dwindling. She heard from the grapevine that it was because he and Izaya, the instigator of the usual fights, had made up and became friends. The brunette admitted to herself that it was a bit disappointing, but she was also glad for them.

After all, when your favourite idol found someone they liked to spend time with, shouldn't it be a fan's job to be happy for them?

 _(The happiness of the idol is the happiness of the fan, or at least that was how she saw it.)_

That was why she felt no ill will towards Izaya for taking away her favourite spectacle, nor at Shizuo for no longer showing off his amazing strength. Tomone was a fan of the supernatural and extraordinary; but she was the kind of fan who realised that their idol had their own personal life and cheered for them whenever something went right because of the deep respect and admiration she held for them. Besides, it wasn't as if _all_ violence ceased after Izaya stopped harassing the blond. There were still the occasional hothead or gang who didn't realise that the title _'Monster of Ikebukuro'_ wasn't for show, though they were now decreasing in number.

As she pondered over her dilemma, the brunette turned towards an alley, intending to take a shortcut to a certain, familiar building. How long had it been since she first stepped onto _that_ rooftop, with the cold night wind howling in her ears and ruffling her short hair? How long had it been since she came to realised that this world was meaningless, that she was caught in an endless, repetitive cycle of which there was only one escape? How long had it been since she stood on that ledge, staring down at the solid, shadow-darkened concrete below, and _smiled_ in _excitement_ at the thought of meeting the sole unknown in this world— _death_?

How long had it been since she heard the neigh of an urban legend, and saw the mysterious creature drove past her soundlessly, unaware that their very presence had turned her world upside-down?

 _A year,_ she thought, lightly humming a cheerful tune she half-remembered from some anime she watched, _maybe a little more._

 _(After that night, all the days that came after seemed meaningless in their quantity, countable only by the quality of its specialness.)_

 _If Heiwajima-kun stopped fighting then I'll have to get my fill elsewhere. May I should look into the Slasher case, or the rumours about the assassin Benihime? Or maybe I can ask about the colour gangs…_

So caught up in her own musings, Tomone didn't notice the three men sneaking up on her. It was only after one of them grabbed her shoulder, spinning her harshly and pushed her roughly against the alley's wall, did she realised that she was trapped.

"Hello there, miss," one of them leered down at her, eyes glancing down at her unbuttoned top collar, "Don't you know that it's a dangerous time to be walking alone?"

The pair surrounding her laughed, as if his tasteless joke was funny. Despite this though—the grip on her shoulder, their lecherous gaze, and the way they licked their lips and wrung their hands— what she felt wasn't throat-gripping fear or even the cold shot of panic. No, instead it was—

—Excitement; and pure, unbridled joy.

 _(She would do anything to escape the mundane.)_

And so, contrary to the expectations of those around her, Tomone _smiled._

A wide, large, grin of genuine happiness.

"He-hey, what…what are you smiling for?" the man holding her stammered, poorly hiding his confusion with an attempt at a fierce frown. All it did was transformed his expression into a silly grimace, which only served to make the brunette giggle, completely bemusing the men who attempted to assault her. The others surrounding her shifted nervously at her skewed humour.

"Nothing," she chirped, tilting her head to the side, her smile stretching wide across her face, "I'm just excited to see what's going to happen next!"

Would some random guy swoop in and save her like in the mangas she read? Would she be pinned down on the asphalt and ravaged to unconsciousness? Or would a passerby chanced to see them and called the police? The possibilities were endless, almost dizzying in its multitude, and it left the brunette near-breathless with excitement.

 _(It did not cross her mind to be afraid, and in the face of her fearlessness, the thought that this girl may held some special ability bloomed in the minds of her captors.)_

 _(If only they knew…)_

It wasn't as if she knew any martial arts or self-defence techniques. She had no special weapon or inhuman strength or talent that could pull her out of her predicament. If anything, Tomone was simply an ordinary girl with unusual interests. And yet, for some reason, perhaps unnerved by her unwavering grin and cheerful attitude, the man pinning her against the wall backed away, and his men followed suit.

"Tch," he said, pushing his fists into the pockets of his jacket and looking away, sneering at her as they walked away. "What a weird girl. Not worth it."

They left as suddenly as they appeared, and the brunette could only blink at the unforeseen outcome.

After a while, she shrugged, smiling. Hey, it wasn't what she expected, but doesn't that made it _fun?_ That sort of unpredictability was the thing she thrived on, sending thrill down her spine and shooting adrenaline running down her veins. So what if it amounted to nothing after all? The fact that something unusual happened was enough to keep her smiling for the rest of the day.

 _Ah, but perhaps it's a good thing that nothing happened after all._

 _If something did happened, then I might get sick, and if I got sick, then I can't watch the supernatural or extraordinary anymore!_

 _And, ugh…maybe my parents will come around and use my body for one of their bizarre experiments they conduct with that gas-mask weirdo. Figures that the first time they visit me in years it would be for their research in Nebula._

The brunette grimaced at the thought, but soon recovered herself and smiled cheerfully. It didn't matter what _could_ have happened because it _didn't_. It may have only been a minute or two, but it was already the past— _history—_ and the future was a mystery, and _right now_ was a gift, which was why it was called the 'present'. And Tomone wholly intended to spend her 'present' to the fullest.

Until she embraced death _(or came to believe that the world is worthless once again)_ , all she wanted to do was feel alive.

 _(And if she had to toe the line between life and death; that was fine too.)_

* * *

In the end, she returned to where it all began.

 _(And nearly ended.)_

Opening the door to the rooftop had been easy. This building had been abandoned for years, and no one had come over to check the state of things. In fact, the brunette caught a glimpse of the lock she had picked a year ago, gathering dust in the corner where she left them under the glare of her phone's light. Turning off her makeshift flashlight, she pushed opened the door and stepped out into the cold night air.

The sky overhead was dark, smoky with pollution from the city, but the moon shone down brightly upon Ikebukuro and when she looked up to the velvety night, Tomone smiled and imagined there were stars hidden behind the haze humanity placed upon them.

From this high up, the brunette could hear the echo of her footsteps, the sound which would have been drowned out in the roar of the city so loud in the still silence. She walked across the length of the rooftop, her strides unhurried though with a bounce that hinted of the underlying cheerfulness she exuded in almost any activity or incident. With a grin as bright as the moonlight shining down overhead, she climbed over the rusty railings guarding the edge and plopped herself down on the ledge, her legs kicking up and dangling over the high drop.

 _(She caught a glimpse of a brown-red splatter from where she sat, from where she had stood a year ago as she prepared to jump—and like before, was marginally disappointed that she had chosen a spot someone else had claimed first.)_

 _(A more major part of her—the one that had her shaking in excitement at the prospect of greeting mankind's last unknown—merely shrugged and pointed out that it wouldn't matter in the end.)_

 _(That part was right, but for radically different reasons than she had originally thought.)_

As she waited for the appearance of a certain mysterious rider, Tomone looked curiously at Kawagoe Highway. The rooftop she was on overlooked the highway which the Black Rider was reported to frequently drive through, a rumour which she had previously been ignorant of when she chose this spot to greet death. Now that she knew of it though, the curly-haired girl couldn't help but wonder why. Why did the Black Rider passed through this highway so often? Did it have sentimental value? Or perhaps it led to the being's home?

Tomone didn't know, and she was in no hurry to find out.

 _Let the extraordinary remain extraordinary,_ she thought, humming a cheerful tune to herself as she tilted her head back to drink in the sight of the moon, _Don't taint them with the ordinary until they become part of the mundane._

 _(This was the reason why she never approached Heiwajima Shizuo at school, remaining content to watch him fight from afar. It wasn't his strength which scared her; it was the possibility that she could inadvertently brought down someone who clearly transcended humanity's limits back to her level.)_

It was enough that she got to see them. It was enough that she lived in the same city as them.

 _No,_ she thought, smiling as she heard the faint neighing that usually came before the Black Rider's appearance. Her caramel gaze dropped from the moon, to the dark figure silently speeding through the empty highway. She did not call out, nor whipped out her phone to video or photo them, but instead followed the urban legend's movements with her eyes. Within moments, it was over, the mysterious rider never realising their distant fan's presence, and yet it was enough to make her smile, to lift the corners of her lips into a wide grin that stretched from ear to ear and thrum her heart into a deafening crescendo as thrill shot up her spine and excitement burst from her chest.

 _(It was enough to remind her of her reason for living.)_

"No," Tomone murmured aloud, giggling to herself as she kicked up her legs over the deadly drop and looked back at the aloof moon. To the distant light overhead, she laughed. "This is _more_ than enough."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

Soo…here's the OC I've been talking about, Hirabayashi Tomone. What do you guys think of her? I kept in mind the craziness and wackiness of the Durarara cast and tried to make her as crazy and eccentric as they are _(sharp readers should have noted her similarities to Mikado, the way both of them are so bored with their daily lives and seek the extraordinary through any means necessary, even death)_. She's 100% human, has no special training or abilities, and a skewed sense of self-preservation, but her eccentricities was enough to drive people away _(and she doesn't even know this!)_. Also, I imagine that, if this was Canon, she would be one of the girls who Izaya convinced to commit suicide in high school and impressed him by doing so _happily_ , even _eagerly_ because she's _that_ bored.

 _(Thankfully, this isn't Canon, so she dodged the bullet there.)_

Also, she has a really, really, _really_ weird logic and set of priorities. Then again, considering that the only sane people in the whole Durarara show is Kadota Kyouhei and Celty Sturluson, I think she _had_ to have this to fit in with the cast. And given that her parents are friends with _Shingen_ of all people, and the fact that they work in the same company, in the same field…yeah, she wouldn't have grown up normal _at all_.

Also…since when is the Fun Fact so _long!?_

 _(Do you guys mind this? Or would you like me to continue doing this in later chapters?)_

 **Last note: I posted my drawing and the character profiles of Heiwajima Namiko and Hirabayashi Tomone on my Tumblr account: thestorytellerofdreams** _ **(**_ ** _: / / thestorytellerofdreams. tumblr . com_** _ **)**_ **[Just remove the spaces and add https at the front]**

I hope you guys like my artwork! Please forgive me if it's bad, I'm still a newbie at this, so I appreciate any tips or advice. Thanks again for reading! ^_^

* * *

 **FUN FACT:**

* * *

 **1.** _Hirabayashi Tomone_ – 'Hirabayashi' is Japanese for 'peaceful forest' _(which is ironic because peace isn't what she's looking for)_ ; the name is found mostly in central Japan, and the same characters are also pronounced Tairabayashi by some families, perhaps denoting connections to the ancient Taira clan. Meanwhile, 'Tomone' means _'sound of a friend'._ I picked this name because it sounded unusual for me. I mean, the most of the characters from Durarara have eccentric names, like Ryuugamine Mikado and Orihara Izaya, so to make her memorable and interesting I picked the surname and given name that you don't usually encounter in anime/manga.

 **2.** _Japanese school system_ – This is one of my pet peeves whenever I read fics set in Japanese high school. The Japanese school system _**is not**_ the same as the American one. In Japan, students are assigned to one classroom and stay in that classroom _only_ for all their subjects for the entire school year _(unless it's P.E., Art, or Music or certain other subjects that require specialised equipment/environment like Chemistry)_. They _don't_ move classes between periods and the teachers go to their classroom, not the other way around. As the students move up to the next grade, a new class may be chosen for them at random, or depending on their grades _(e.g. Tomone is in class 1-B now, but next year she may be in class 2-A)_ , though _how_ that's selected is dependent on the school. Also, Japanese public schools require students to go to school 6 days a week _(Monday to Saturday)_ though some schools may apply the standard 5 days a week. So whenever I read fics that's set in a Japanese high school but uses the American system, I get kinda annoyed because that's not how it works _(unless it's stated somewhere that the school is a private/foreign one)_.

For example: Tomone is in class 1-B with Shinra. For history or math, she stays in class 1-B, but for chemistry and music she has to move to another classroom because the equipment/items required for the activity is in the lab or music room. This also has the effect of making her less likely to interact with others outside of her classmates, such as Izaya who's in class 1-C or Shizuo who's in class 1-A. This is because, unless you apply for a club or go out of your way to befriend someone outside of those in your classroom, you don't really get much opportunity to interact with others outside of your classroom. Well, this is speaking from my experience. Sure, I know the _names_ of others outside my class, but I'm not really close to any of them; and the friends who _are_ close to me, I had classes with them or met them in a club. Of course, this is from _my_ experience, so others may have different experience.

 **3.** _The Black Rider and pronouns_ – As readers, we know that the Black Rider is a headless woman named Celty. However, in-universe, most people thought that the Black Rider is male. Tomone however, uses the pronoun _'they'_ because in her investigation on the Black Rider, she found reports that said that the Black Rider is a woman. Since she doesn't know which one is right _(whether the Black Rider is male or female)_ she uses the pronoun _'they'_ or _'them'_ to indicate gender-neutralness.

 **4.** ' _In the school ranks she was somewhere in the upper-middle rankings, an acceptable average for her, but one which nit-picking parents frowned upon and teachers sighed…'_ \- In Japan, your grades are really, _really_ important and there's a lot of pressure on the students to achieve high grades and rankings. This is because " _High school entrance is the critical juncture at which the Japanese education system begins to reflect major differences in ability and socioeconomic background. The hierarchical ranking of the high school that a student attends is closely related to future employment and career path. With high school entry, a student already has a fair idea of his or her likely future status."_ (Source: Japanese Education System - Grades 10-12)

That's why it's a really big thing for Tomone to enter Raijin Academy, as this story is set in the past before it became Raira Academy. Before it became known as Raira Academy, Raijin was infamous for being filled with violent and trouble-making students _(ehem, Shizuo, Izaya, I'm looking at you two)_ and so didn't have the good reputation it has later in the future. One of the ways the staff can fix this image is to have its students enter prestigious universities, and the teachers know that Tomone has the potential to do so. The thing is, _she doesn't want to_ which is _very_ unusual for a Japanese student since which university she goes to can affect her socioeconomic status in the future. Tomone, however, doesn't care about any of that, which makes her _very_ odd to her peers and teachers.

 **5.** _Elizabeth Girl Academy_ – Depending on whether or not you take the Durarara Relay or Durarara 3 Way Standoff as Canon, this school exists in Naritaverse. Igarashi Chiaki, one of the main characters in Relay and 3 Way Standoff, goes to this school. There are also hints in the light novels that Relay and 3 way standoff is actually a part of Canon. In volume 13, Masaomi mentioned Miyoshi Yoshimune, who appeared in both stories, and in Durarara SH the incident in 3 Way Standoff is mentioned in passing.

 **6.** _'…watching the courtyard as she saw the blond smashed a table where the infamous Orihara Izaya had sat with a video camera in hand…'_ – This is a callback to Chapter 4: The Beginning.

 **7.** ' _Once people put you in a box, then you were often stuck in it…'_ – Time to show off all the things I learnt from my psychology major! [o(≧∇≦o)]. You see, once an impression is formed, people become less likely to change their minds when confronted with nonsupportive evidence. People tend to interpret, seek, and create information in ways that confirm existing beliefs (Source: Social Psychology, 9th Edition by Saul Kassin, Steven fein, and Hazel Rose Markus). For example, once you form an impression than a certain person is bad, you tend to seek information that will confirm this belief and disregard those that doesn't support it. Izaya, in Durarara Relay, chapter 3, summed it up quite nicely: _"Most humans believe they are correct. That they cannot be wrong. For humans, that belief seems to be very important to them. They are able to affirm their own correctness over and over using what they hear from others. They don't just apply what they see, but also to things they don't like that they read or hear. For humans, those deeds which affirm them are the most important. It doesn't matter if it's truth or a lie…"_

 **8.** '… _maybe my parents will come around and use my body for one of their bizarre experiments they conduct with that gas-mask weirdo…in Nebula…'_ – Yes, Tomone's parents are scientists in Nebula and one of Shingen's _(said 'gas-mask weirdo')_ friends, though since she doesn't know Shingen's name, she doesn't relate him to Shinra, her classmate. She's not really fond of them, but she doesn't hate them either _(kinda like how Shinra is with Shingen)_.

 **9.** _'It may have only been a minute or two, but it was already the past—history—and the future was a mystery, and right now was a gift, which was why it was called the 'present'.'_ – A variant of the quote from Master Oogway, from Kung Fu Panda: _"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That's why it's called the 'present'."_

 **10.** _'…all she wanted to do was feel alive.'_ – A nod to _Steppin' Out_ by Flow, the opening song for Durararax2 Ketsu. I really love this song and think it's fitting for Durarara because it perfectly encapsulated the feeling of searching for the extraordinary that Mikado must be feeling during that final cour. And, I think, it's fitting for Izaya too. I believe that the reason why he keeps stirring up and involving himself in dangerous situations is because he enjoys the thrill; it makes him feel alive. It's the same thing with Tomone here.

And also, the lyrics _'Even if I try to appear uninvolved, I'm still connected somehow. This city beckons me back, again and again'_ fits pretty much _everyone_ in the show. Even though Kida tries to leave, he's still connected to the events in Ikebukuro, and same goes to those who simply wish for a peaceful life like Anri, Shizuo, Celty and so on. And I think, that's why, even though Izaya left at the end of the anime and stated that he cut his ties with Ikebukuro in his spin-off, _The Sunset with Orihara Izaya,_ I believe that one day he would return in Durarara SH, because the 'strings of fate' that connects him with everyone else in that city is still strong _(heck, one of the main characters, Kotonomi Kuon, tries to modelled himself after him! And there are numerous references to Izaya that I can't help but think that sooner or later, he will return)._

 **11.** _Kawagoe Highway –_ In Canon, Celty and Shinra's apartment is located around the Kawagoe Highway. That's why there are many reports of sightings of the Black Rider on that highway.


	18. I Know

_There are many things I don't know, and many things I do,_

 _Many things that comes, and many things that goes,_

 _Here are the things that I do know:_

 _Love, friendship, hope,_

 _And a connection that binds everyone together._

* * *

Chapter 12: I Know

* * *

Saturday afternoon found them walking home from school together.

Izaya was chattering, as was the norm they discovered in this new routine of theirs. The brunet was balanced on top of the wall next to him, prattling on about something Shizuo was half-listening to _(humans—again. What was so interesting about people?)_ , his arms moving up and down as he gestured this way and that, heedless of the drop on both his sides. Shizuo, however, was keenly aware of how _easy_ it was to get hurt, and so eyed his friend's movements carefully as they walked, ready to catch him if he so much swayed too much to one side.

 _(Izaya wasn't like him. He didn't have his monstrous strength or fast healing rate. His mind may be a monster's—too sharp and too cunning for his own good—but his body was not, and Shizuo was all-too aware of this fact.)_

It was at the junction where they usually parted ways that their new routine was disrupted once again.

 _(Though at that time, neither knew of this.)_

"Where are you going?" he asked as he saw Izaya head off in a different direction to than usual.

"Ran out of milk," the brunet answered by way of an explanation, leaping down from the wall. He flashed a smarmy grin, raised a hand to wave, and turned away. "Bye, Shizu-chan."

The blond watched as he left, his form slowly diminishing with distance. He bit his lip, gnawing and worrying the soft flesh, as he wondered on what to do. On one hand, their usual routine up until now had been to head home immediately after school, and he wasn't sure what would happen if he changed it. On the other hand, wasn't hanging out after school what friends did? Or at least, that was what he usually saw and experienced with Shinra and Tom.

 _We're friends, right?_ Shizuo asked himself, scowling at air and pushing his fists into his pockets. _Then why am I hesitating?_

It was because, he reasoned, Izaya was such a prickly, fickle, tricky person that it was hard to discern how he felt or thought about certain situations. For all he knew, the brunet truly hated him beneath his smiling façade and was secretly plotting his death. In fact, that was _highly_ possible. Except for the occasional cracks in his mask, looking at Izaya was like looking at a still, clear lake—all you could see was your own reflection, and its stillness hid the darkness in its depths.

 _Half of the things he says are meaningless, and half of that means something else, and half of_ _ **that**_ _means the opposite of what he actually says._

 _1/8_

It was hard to be friends with Orihara Izaya.

And yet…

 _Being alone is more painful than being hurt._

Wasn't that what he said back then? Admittedly, this was a relatively minor thing. Izaya wouldn't care either way if he tagged along or not, but it _mattered_ to Shizuo. Small things eventually piled up into something big, right? Besides, from what he'd seen of Izaya, the brunet wasn't used to friendly company…and that was just _sad_ for the blond. Nobody should thought that their company wasn't wanted by anyone.

Nodding determinedly to himself, Shizuo jogged up to his side.

Surprise flickered across Izaya's face, before it was quickly replaced with a fake smile. "Miss me already, Shizu-chan?" he purred, his too-sweet smile belying the wariness glinting in his crimson eyes.

"As if," he scoffed, his strides taking on the same pace as Izaya's. "I just like milk, Izaya-kun."

"Sweets and milk?" the brunet drew a grin over his lips, his laughter tinted with mockery. "What are you, a child, Shizu-chan? Do monsters age differently than humans?"

The blond growled, half-heartedly swinging a fist at him. The brunet easily ducked and dodged, laughing as he danced away from Shizuo. He grumbled. "Shut _up._ "

Izaya grinned and laughed all the way to the shop.

* * *

The closer they were to the shop, the more Shizuo felt a vague sense of ominous premonition.

At first, he had ignored it. Perhaps it was wariness over the brunet's intentions. As much as Izaya claimed that he was only going to buy milk, he knew that he should take his words with a grain of salt. Izaya was a lying liar who lied, and if he wasn't lying, then he was misleading you by twisting some words and omitting certain facts. So it would not surprise Shizuo at all if his friend was leading him to some sort of trap.

 _(What a troublesome friend Orihara Izaya was.)_

The longer they walked though, the less he entertained the idea. Izaya should know by now that none of the gangs he sent after him could scratch him, much less hurt him. It was the very definition of insanity to try the same things over and over again and expect different results _(though Shizuo wasn't certain that the brunet was sane to begin with)_. And anyway, didn't Izaya say he 'gave up'? Even though the blond had been bemused and disbelieving at first, the fact was that the number of fights he got into had decreased drastically ever since that day on the rooftop. As it was, Shizuo was beginning to believe that Izaya had _actually_ meant to buy milk instead of engaging in any shady deals.

But that doesn't explain the stirring sense of unease in his gut.

Perhaps it was their surroundings? Shizuo could vaguely recall some fights he got into nearby. Maybe that was why he felt so uncomfortable to walk through this are. Perhaps some instinct was warning him that he didn't belong here—that he, a monster, should leave.

That doesn't make any sense though. He felt _that_ everywhere in the city.

So it couldn't be that. The feeling of being displaced—not belonging anywhere—was something he was intimately familiar with, so much so that he became partially immune to it. He couldn't care less about what people think of him as long as the people he cared about weren't involved _(his mother, his brother, his friends…and yes, that even included Izaya, as annoying as the brunet may be)_. And even if Izaya was a lying liar who lied, he had been getting better at telling that 1/8 and understanding the unsaid words written in the gleam of his eyes, the curve of his smirk, and the gestures of his limbs. Besides, although Izaya may fake the little quirks and nuances that gave him away, Shizuo was certain that he could take on whatever the other threw at him.

After all, he did survived a truck.

So no; it wasn't the atmosphere or Izaya that bothered him. It was something else. But _what?_

 _(It itched—the unknown sparking slow simmer of anger, the familiar red haze pressing against the edges of his vision. Next to him, Izaya—who had been observing him from the corner of his eyes—grinned.)_

 _(Izaya had no idea what set him off, but he was enjoying it nonetheless.)_

It was only after a certain familiar shop came into view did Shizuo understood his instinctive apprehension.

 _Of all the places to buy milk, why did he_ _ **have**_ _to pick_ _ **this**_ _one!?_

His feet suddenly felt like lead, heavy and unreliable in its rejection of his will. All he wanted to do was step back, grab the louse who brought him here, and run away. His throat felt tight, constricted on air as memories of his childhood rushed against the barrier of his shock, threatening to drown him again in shame and guilt. The kind milk lady, the men assaulting her, his loss of control and her unconscious body at his feet—it all came back to him, and Shizuo wanted nothing more than to run away.

Izaya was several steps ahead of him before the brunet noticed he wasn't following. He turned, a taunting smirk set against the curve of his lips. "Come now, what's the matter, Shizu-chan? I'm sure that if you keep up your pretence as a human then you'll get served too."

"No," Shizuo shook his head, amber eyes still on the shop's innocent front, "She won't. Not after what she'd seen me do."

He exposed himself, somehow, and while he couldn't bring himself to worry over the stupor his memories gave him, he could see Izaya's mouth open in the beginning of a taunt. But then—he _stopped_. The brunet closed his mouth, scrutinised him with a crimson gaze, and with his lips set in a neutral line, Izaya asked, "What happened?"

"It doesn't matter," the blond shook his head again. He grabbed Izaya's wrist, putting a little too much pressure in his hold in his panic. "Let's go. _Now._ You can buy milk elsewhere."

Izaya frowned _(the pain of his grip hidden by pride and—though he wouldn't admit it—worry),_ "Shizu-chan—"

"Ah!" A cheery, feminine voice called out from the shop. "Izaya-kun! I was wondering when you'll show up."

The brunet tugged his wrist free, and Shizuo let go, his strength waning helplessly as he stared at the kind lady he had hurt in his attempt to protect years ago. The shopkeeper was older now, her mahogany-brown hair streaked with strands of white. There were a couple of aged lines set against the corners of her mouth and eyes, which crinkled when she smiled kindly at them. And yet, though time had clearly aged her, there was still a youthful spark in her mocha eyes behind her glasses.

"Isana-san," Izaya smiled genially at her, giving her a small, polite bow as greeting, "It's been a while. I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier, but I have some pressing matters I had to attend to."

"It's fine, it's fine," she replied, waving off his apologies _(and Izaya—apologising? He must clearly want something)_. "Who's this, Izaya-kun? Your friend?"

Izaya glanced at him, and if one didn't spend every day with him, they would have missed the slight wavering of his grin. "…Yes, I suppose so."

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me then?" the shopkeeper smiled, turning her attention to him. "My name is Isana Chieko. What's yours?"

"I-I'm—" Tongue-tied, all Shizuo could do was stare incredulously at her, frozen in indecision as his mind raced. _She doesn't know me!_

Beside him, Izaya looked amused, his grin widening as he floundered. Snickering at his predicament, the brunet answered for him. "Isana-san, this is Heiwajima Shizuo. Shizu-chan, this is Isana-san. She's the owner of this wonderful pastry and dairy shop."

The woman—Isana Chieko—blinked, realisation settling in her mocha eyes. Those eyes then widened, her mouth dropping into an 'O', and with a sickening lurch in his gut, Shizuo knew that she remembered the monster who had harmed her.

 _This is it. She's going to hate me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose control. I'm sorry—_

"You're Shizuo-kun?" Chieko gasped, and then—contrary to his expectations— _smiled_. "Wow! I can't believe how much you've grown! Did you take my advice and drink lots of milk? And when did you dye your hair? I almost didn't recognise you with it."

"I-ah…" Dumbly, Shizuo blinked, stuttering out, "Ye-yeah, I drank milk. And-uh, it was in middle school. My senpai advised me to dye it to warn off others…"

The shopkeeper nodded, clapping her hands, "Ah, that's pretty good advice, Shizuo-kun. You got a nice senpai."

"Yeah…Tom-senpai is nice…" Bewildered, the blond frowned uncertainly. A heavy weight had dissipated in the face of her kindness, but he had grown so used to its shackles that it felt a little off-kilter and dizzying to suddenly feel so light.

 _She's…not mad at me? Why? I hurt her…_

As he retreated into silence, Chieko turned to face Izaya. With a kind smile, she said, "So, do you want the usual, Izaya-san?"

The brunet returned her smile with one of his own—a close-mouthed, eyes-squinted smile like that of a fox, "Of course, Isana-san."

Both of them turned and entered the shop, though they waited for him to follow them before they stepped in proper. Quietly, Shizuo followed them, entering the quaint shop he had sworn to never darkened with his shadow ever again. Neither of them seemed to notice his odd disposition as they chattered on and on about something trivial.

"It's in the back, at the usual place, Izaya-kun," the shopkeeper said, gesturing towards a nondescript door.

Izaya nodded, still smiling that amiable, sly, fox-like smile. He glanced at him briefly, a smirk curving his lips as he said, " _Do_ behave, Shizu-chan."

Still reeling from his shock and confusion, all Shizuo could utter was a half-hearted, "Shut up."

His friend laughed at him, turning away and leaving him fuming alone with the woman he once accidentally harmed.

When the door slid close, Chieko's smile faded away into a concerned frown.

"I wonder," she softly intoned, her voice dropped low to a half whisper as she turned to face him. "What's someone like you doing with someone like Izaya-kun, Shizuo-kun?"

Normally, such allegations _(the implications that he wasn't normal enough, wasn't human enough, to interact with another person)_ would incense him. Now though, faced with her, the only thing Shizuo felt was _hurt._

"I know that I'm a monster, but—"

"Oh no!" She quickly cut off, shaking her head to reassure him. "That wasn't what I meant."

The blond blinked. "Then what do you mean, Isana-san?"

"It's just…" She waved a hand in the air and comber her hair with her fingers—a nervous tick. "What do you know of Izaya-kun, really?"

 _That's a weird question to ask…_

"I know that he's a bit of a jerk at the best of time," Shizuo answered, unsure of where this was heading, "And he's a trouble-making liar who lies too much and is too smart for his own good. Half of the things he says are meaningless, and half of _that_ means something else, and half of _**that**_ means the opposite of what he actually says. And that he's a lonely, self-absorbed bastard and my friend."

The corners of her lips quirked up into a lopsided smile, "You say all that terrible things and still claim him as your friend? You certainly don't sugarcoat things, Shizuo-kun."

He shrugged, "That's the truth."

Chieko sighed, her smile taking on a resigned air as she advised, "That's all well and good, Shizuo-kun, but Izaya-kun is…" she shook her head, smiling ruefully, "You're a good person, Shizuo-kun, and I'm sure that someday you'll be great. But if you hang around someone like Izaya-kun, well…"

She tilted her head slightly, the light catching on her glasses glinting ominously.

"Izaya-kun... he isn't a good person. Not like you. Hanging around him will be detrimental to your dream of living a peaceful life."

 _How does she know that!?_

It was certainly true that Heiwajima Shizuo wanted nothing more than to have peace in his life, but how did this woman—someone who he hadn't _seen_ let alone _talk_ to for _years_ —know about it?

"Now, now, don't look so surprised," the shopkeeper chuckled, "Let's just say that I'm simply a very good judge of character. I can tell that you're still the same kind, selfless boy who rescued me when I was attacked years ago." With a sincere, grateful smile, she continued, "You know, I've been wanting to thank you for a long time now."

Hands clasped in front of her, Isana Chieko—the woman whom he had harmed years ago—gave a small bow.

"Thank you for saving me, Shizuo-kun."

Gaping, Shizuo frantically raised his hands. "No! _Please,_ don't bow! I-I _hurt_ you. I didn't mean to! But-but I couldn't control myself and you got hurt—and—I'm _sorry!_ I'm so sorry…you shouldn't be _thanking_ me…"

"I—I'm…" His fists clenched at his sides so tightly he almost bled, gaze directed shamefully at the floor, he murmured, "I'm…a monster. I don't deserve your gratitude…"

"Oh, Shizuo-kun…" The kind shopkeeper sighed, placing a hand upon his shoulder _(why wasn't she afraid? Why wasn't she backing away? She had already seen him for who he was, so why wasn't she frightened?)._ "You're _not_ a monster. You're a caring, kind boy who just so happens to be incredibly strong."

"Ah…" There was wetness behind his eyes, catching on his lashes and threatening to spill out over his cheeks. "How do you _know?_ "

An all-knowing look glinted across her mocha eyes, her smile as kind as ever as she handed him a handkerchief. "Like I said, I'm a good judge of character."

He took it reluctantly, dabbing his almost-tears away. Soft and warm, like her, and he couldn't help but imagine how _easy_ it would be to rip the fabric apart as he had broken her arm. The blond shuddered, the knuckles of his fist at his side turning white at the idea.

 _I don't deserve her forgiveness…_

When he dared to look up and offer back at the handkerchief, she gave him a sad smile and shook her head.

"You can keep it for now," said Chieko softly, "Return it to me after you've forgiven _yourself._ Because I can see that it's not my forgiveness you need."

Swallowing down the tightness in his throat, Shizuo managed to choke out a whispered, "Thank you," from the knot constricting his chest.

"Think nothing of it," She replied as the back door opened and Izaya stepped in.

 _No. I can't. This is so much more than I deserve…_

His friend frowned as he approached him, crimson eyes glancing at the brunette shopkeeper before returning to him. In his hand was a white plastic bag filled with a few bottles of milk and…a folder. Shizuo would have asked, but the brunet cut him off first. With a faux smile, Izaya asked: "Now what did the monster got up to while I was gone? Didn't I told you to behave?"

 _Half of the things he says are meaningless, and half of_ _ **that**_ _means something else, and half of_ _ **that**_ _means the opposite of what he actually says._

And so—in Izaya-speak—Shizuo heard:

" _Are you alright? Did something happened?"_

Facial expressions weren't useful in determining truth from lies, he remembered the lesson his mother had gave him. It was in their body language that people were more honest. The direction of their feet, the position of their arms, their posture—all of these were much harder to mask than one's face or words. And right now, written all over his body language, Shizuo could read worry from Izaya.

" _Izaya-kun... he isn't a good person. Not like you. Hanging around him will be detrimental to your dream of living a peaceful life."_

He knew _that_. Damn it, Heiwajima Shizuo _knew_ that Orihara Izaya was nothing but trouble since the day he saw him. But _still—_

 _Being alone is more painful than being hurt._

And also—

"Shut up, louse," Shizuo grumbled, pocketing the handkerchief and looking away, mumbling, "Nothing happened."

 _I'm fine._

What else could he say in the face of such concern?

From the easing in the tenseness of his shoulders, he could tell that Izaya understood him. Grinning, his friend teased. "Is that so? Well, since the store's intact I suppose it must be true. Should I offer a treat to a monster for reining his temper?"

" _God,"_ Shizuo growled, throwing a half-hearted punch at him—which the other dodged easily. "Why are you _such_ a brat?"

"I don't know," The brunet chortled, smile dancing over his lips, "Same reason you're a monster, I suppose."

He would have _definitely_ thrown a table at his friend right then and there if Chieko didn't clear her throat and interrupted them."

"Well!" She smiled widely, clapping her hands together loudly, "Is there anything else you need, Izaya-kun?"

Izaya shook his head, meeting her cheerful smile with one of his own. "No, thank you, Isana-san. I left the usual payment at the back. If anything comes up, I'll be sure to call you."

The shopkeeper gave a wide, closed-eyed smile; one which—while genuine—felt _off_ somehow. "Be sure to do so. I'll be looking forward to more requests."

"I'll be taking my leave now then, Isana-san," Izaya glanced at him. "What about you? Have you finished shopping yet, Shizu-chan? Don't forget to pay for what you take."

"I don't need _you_ to tell me that!" snapped Shizuo at the brunet. To Chieko though, his voice took a softer, more polite tone. "Thank you for everything, Isana-san."

The brunette shopkeeper smiled pleasantly, "You're welcome boys!"

As the two made to leave—Izaya having stepped out of the shop and Shizuo lingering in the doorway—Chieko called out one last time, "Don't forget what I said before!"

Shizuo nodded back at her, but he was uncertain whether he would heed the advice or not.

 _Izaya's my friend. I wouldn't—couldn't—leave him because of some potential trouble._

 _And besides, even if I did that…_

As he closed the door, Shizuo caught a rare glimpse of his transparent string of fate—of _life—_ tangled and tied and _connected_ to a whole bunch of other, colourless, strings; the lives of those he had yet to meet and those who had passed.

 _There's no turning back now._

* * *

The sun set over the horizon, its descent blocked by the city's towering skyscrapers. Yet the dying light streaked through the darkening sky, the last orange embers of the sun shining bright against the incoming darkness, before slowly being swallowed up by the encroaching night. As they walked through a sunset-washed park on their way home, Shizuo turned to Izaya and said, "Thanks."

The brunet raised an eyebrow, "For what?"

Shizuo smiled, "For helping me."

His friend looked away, as the blond now knew he was wont to do whenever he felt genuinely pleased and tried to hide it behind a veneer of superiority. "Now, now, Shizu-chan, how did that single-cell you call a brain came to _that_ conclusion? I was only helping myself."

"I know," He admitted, "But you still helped. If it wasn't for you, I would've _never_ had gotten the courage to face her."

"Oh? Is she Shizu-chan's special someone?" Now that his usual sly smirk returned, Izaya looked back at him once more, "You do realise that she's _much_ older than you, right?"

"Idiot," He grumbled, inciting a small frown from the brunet—one which the other quickly smoothed over with a grin. "I _know_ that. It's just that—she's one of the first people outside of my family to be _nice_ to me. And I—and I—"

The blond broke eye contact, clenching his fists at his sides. "I hurt her. When…when I was a kid, a bunch of guys attacked her in her own shop for some reason. I—I…got _angry._ Really, really, _really_ angry. And I hurt her."

He looked back at Izaya, amber eyes meeting crimson ones. "That's why…if it wasn't for you, I would've never had the courage to go there and speak to her. So…thanks, Izaya-kun."

"And that's also why…" continued Shizuo, "…if you ever need help, just call me."

"Why would I ever need a monster's help?" said Izaya, but there was a suspicious sheen in his crimson eyes. He swallowed, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down made Shizuo thought that—if he was any other person—he would be showing nervousness.

"I don't know. Maybe you need a bodyguard or something?" Because there was no way someone like _Izaya_ wouldn't face threats to his life, and it worried Shizuo. He wouldn't be at all surprised if one day he would wake up and hear that Izaya had been stabbed in the middle of the streets. "Anyway, let's exchange numbers, just in case."

"As if I would ever need _your_ help," He replied snidely, though he gave him his number nonetheless, "I can take care of myself."

"The offer is still there," Shizuo said back, pocketing his phone into his pocket. "Just call me if you need anything," He shrugged, "Or, you know, if you just want to talk."

"And I suppose there's some sort of fee attached to this oh-so-kind favour?" His friend countered sarcastically.

Shizuo frowned, "Of course not! We're _friends_ , Izaya-kun, and that means we help each other when we're in need. Free of charge."

He saw Izaya pursed his lips, his usual smirk settling into a neutral line. With a dubious look, he scrutinised him, before pocketing his phone away into his jacket. Crimson eyes glanced up at him as he murmured, "Nothing in this world is free."

"Well, this _is,_ " The blond nearly growled, frustrated at his friend's obtuseness, "You're my friend, so you better get used to it, louse!"

The corners of his Izaya's lips quirked up, breath coming out in an exaggerated, exasperated huff, "If Shizu-chan insists."

And that answer—that made Shizuo slowly relaxed.

Because in Izaya-speak, that was acquiescence and laughter.

* * *

 _I know that he's nothing but trouble._

 _I know that befriending him is pretty much an invitation to chaos._

 _I know how easy it is to hate him._

 _But I also know how much loneliness hurts even though you try to deny it._

 _And I also know that I'm not an easy person to befriend._

 _And more importantly, I know that right here, right now, he's my friend, regardless of what could have been._

 _That's why, even though I know he would drag me away from the peaceful life I yearn, I…don't really mind it._

 _Because nobody should go through life alone._

 _And…_

 _I know that he's right—that I_ _ **am**_ _a monster despite what a few would say otherwise. I know how different I am from everyone else. I know that my strength and temper set me apart._

 _And he's the same like me—a monster._

 _But one of the mind instead of one of the body._

 _And I suppose…that's why we're friends. That's why I keep approaching him, and reaching out at him despite his attempts to stay distant. That's why I don't mind being dragged to all the turmoil and troubles he would undoubtedly bring._

 _Because he's my friend, and I'm his, and friends help each other out, right?_

 _Besides, it would only make sense for a monster's version of a 'peaceful life' to be different from everyone else's._

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

First, I'm really sorry that I haven't been updating this more often! RL is taking its toll on me, what's with all the assignments and tasks and exams I have to do and prepare for. I don't think I can update this twice a week for a month, though I will make sure I update this at least _once_ a week.

On another note, this chapter went out of my control _again._

It was supposed to be a fluffy piece where Izaya accidentally bring Shizuo to his childhood dairy shop, but it spiralled out from there. The milk lady wasn't even _supposed to have a name!_ And yet, somehow, it ended with the implication that she's more than she seemed _(which, admittedly, is a recurring theme in Durarara._ _ **Nobody**_ _is what they seem in Canon)_ and have shadier connections with Izaya.

In short, this was supposed to be a short piece where Shizuo confront his childhood fear and resolve it, but somehow, more plot was added than I originally intended.

 _(Not that I'm upset by this, but I_ _ **am**_ _confused as to where this is going. I_ _ **know the ending and the overall storyline**_ _, but all the specific details have been blurred and changed in the telling, so I'm kinda…interested? Nervous? It's like, I'm with you guys, I don't really know what's going to happen next.)_

On another note, more and more characters have been added into the mix. It started with Namiko, and then Yukine and Kanra, and then Tomone, and now Chieko. What do you guys think about this? The original Durarara is also filled with so many characters, that even though Celty and/or Mikado is supposed to be the main character _(or at least, that's what Narita said)_ , it's really more like a tale of the city. What do you guys think if I went in that direction?

 _(Of course, the focus will still be on the slow-going Shizaya romance, but as told in 'History in Snow' this is a story of a tangled web of connections. So it's inevitable that more and more characters will be dragged into this by those two, somehow.)_

* * *

 **FUN FACTS**

* * *

 **1.** _Isana Chieko_ \- The name ' _Isana'_ comes from the Shinto deity Izanagi, who was credited with the creation of many other Shinto deities. It is also a nod to _K Project_ , where its main character goes by the name of Isana Yashiro. _'Chieko'_ is a Japanese female name meaning _'child blessed with wisdom'._ I chose this name because, well, let's just say _'a good judge of character'_ isn't the only thing she has going on. She is _much_ smarter than those around her took her for.

 **2\. '** _Saturday afternoon found them walking home from school together.'_ – Most Japanese schools have their students go to school 6 days a week, instead of 5.

 **3\. '** _It was the very definition of insanity to try the same things over and over again and expect different results'_ – Taken from a quote by Albert Einstein.

 **4.** _ **'**_ _Facial expressions weren't useful in determining truth from lies'_ \- People use nonverbal cues to detect deception but are often not accurate in making these judgments because they pay too much attention to the face and neglect cues that are more revealing _(Source: Social Psychology, 9_ _th_ _Edition by Saul Kassin, Steven Fein, and Hazel Markus Rose)_.


	19. Another Side, Another Story (2)

_Blew on a house of cards; flick a piece of domino,_

 _Watch as everything tumbles down,_

 _But it's not disorganised, see?_

 _Every action has an equal opposite reaction,_

 _There are no such things as coincidence,_

 _There is only fate._

* * *

Another Side, Another Story [2] – Isana Chieko

* * *

Isana Chieko was a simple woman.

She was born in Ikebukuro, studied in Ikebukuro, and lived in Ikebukuro. She rarely, if ever, set foot outside of Tokyo. A true 'Ikebukuronite' some would say, though she would be reluctant to apply the term to herself. Her little shop had been passed down from generations to generations and it, as well as her, had become such a fixture in the city that long-time residents felt as if she and her shop was part of Ikebukuro itself.

Of course, all of this was a lie.

Oh, not about her love for simplicity. That part was true—in fact, the _only_ one that's truth. She disliked clutter, hated mess, and avoided trouble wherever she could. Her shop, too, reflected her simplicity. A white wooden door, an organised window case, pastel yellow walls—simple and warm, just as she liked it.

As for her life…

Until a few decades ago, that was simple too.

* * *

 _ **Isana Chieko, reborn!**_

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Ah, it has been a while, Chieko-san.

 **Isana Chieko**

Tsukumoya-sama.

 **Isana Chieko**

There's been a change.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Oh? What happened to Izaya?

 **Isana Chieko**

It seems he gained a friend.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Someone with his currently awful personality got a new friend? Is it another one like Kishitani Shinra?

 **Isana Chieko**

No. I know this one.

 **Isana Chieko**

It's Heiwajima Shizuo-kun.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

The Monster of Ikebukuro? My, my, what will happen to the city now…?

 **Isana Chieko**

Don't call him a monster.

 **Isana Chieko**

He's human, unlike us.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

I wonder if that's true.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

You don't know about your master's research before they disappeared, do you?

 **Isana Chieko**

…I have no business prying into my master's secrets.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

What a loyal retainer.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

But we are getting off topic.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

You said that Izaya is now friends with Heiwajima Shizuo?

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Though I get the feeling that you don't approve of this.

 **Isana Chieko**

…As of right now, Izaya-kun's mental wellbeing is still unstable.

 **Isana Chieko**

His convictions change like the wind, his desires are fickle, and his personality is cruel and cowardly.

 **Isana Chieko**

Shizuo-kun is the opposite.

 **Isana Chieko**

He is kind, caring, and selfless. It is only his temper and self-loathing that's holding him back.

 **Isana Chieko**

Once he overcomes those, I am certain that he will become great.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

I understand. You do have a great grasp on other's character.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

But I believe that is why they are a great match.

 **Isana Chieko**

Oh?

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

'Opposites attract', right? And more importantly, someone like Shizuo may be able to inspire Izaya to change.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Who knows, maybe he'll return back to the person we once know? If that happens, your master will return.

 **Isana Chieko**

…I suppose you are right.

 **Isana Chieko**

I must admit, I didn't really consider that. Your insight is valuable, Tsukumoya-sama.

 **Isana Chieko**

No wonder my master considers you their friend **.**

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Hahaha, is that so? Thank you for the compliments, Chieko-san. Though you are the one doing most of the legwork.

 **Isana Chieko**

I am my master's retainer. It only follows that I do this job.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

I've said it before, what a loyal retainer.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Anyway, you said there's a change. What form did it take?

 **Isana Chieko**

I saw Izaya-kun display concern towards Shizuo-kun.

 **Isana Chieko**

Of course, he displayed it in his typical roundabout manner, but it's still progress, no matter how small.

 **Isana Chieko**

I believe you are right, Tsukumoya-sama. Shizuo-kun is a good influence on him.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Ah, I'm glad to hear that.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Progress is progress no matter how small. And small things tend to pile up into big things later on.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

This is a good sign.

 **Isana Chieko**

On another note, how goes the search for Orihara Natsu-sama, Orihara Shirou-san, and Orihara Kyouko-san?

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

No progress on that front.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Izaya's grandmother and parents are hard to find when they don't want to be found.

 **Isana Chieko**

The entire Orihara family is like that.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Hahaha, that's true. You would know after being a retainer for so long.

 **Isana Chieko**

You know them longer than I do.

 **Isana Chieko**

It's been decades. Perhaps even a century, give or take a few years.

 **Isana Chieko**

Where could they possibly be?

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Who knows? Our best bet is to get your master to return, and for that we need Izaya to become who he used to be.

 **Isana Chieko**

Yes…that's true…

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Still, for Heiwajima Shizuo to appear into the picture.

 **Isana Chieko**

The Heiwajima family and Orihara family have been closely entwined ever since my master became friends with their ancestor.

 **Isana Chieko**

Long before the human civilisation we of know today exist.

 **Isana Chieko**

As proof of that eternal friendship, my master gave the Heiwajima family a special pair of white daggers they made with their own blood and flames.

 **Isana Chieko**

I suppose it's only fate for the Heiwajima family to come into the picture after so long.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

That is true, but that's not what I meant.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

You are a relatively new retainer. Only a few hundreds of years in service, if I recall? It's not surprising that you don't know.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Do you remember Delic?

 **Isana Chieko**

My master's mate. Of course. He's the reason my master is this way.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

My, my, is that anger I detect? Hahaha, that's ironic.

 **Isana Chieko**

Why?

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Now, now, that information isn't really relevant to our current circumstances.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

If you are really curious though, go ask your master when they return.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

I'll give you a hint: Your master's choice in lovers follow a certain pattern.

 **Isana Chieko**

It's not my place to pry into my master's love life.

 **Isana Chieko**

Furthermore, I wasn't angry. I'm…sad.

 **Isana Chieko**

I remember Delic-san. He was a good man, despite his temper and abnormal strength.

 **Isana Chieko**

No, I'm upset because if he didn't die, then my master wouldn't be like this.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Ah, but he was mortal, Chieko-san. A human. He would've died in time anyway.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

What's regrettable is that the Bond did not take your master as well when he died.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Though they must have known the possibility of this. In the end, your master's current fate is an inevitable result of their choice.

 **Isana Chieko**

….

 **Isana Chieko**

It is still sad though. For my master to be cursed with such complete immortality that not even death would touch them…

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

It can't be helped. They were created that way.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Anyway, do you have anything else to report?

 **Isana Chieko**

No. That is all for now.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Very well. By the way, how's Mairu doing?

 **Isana Chieko**

She's stable for now.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

That's good…

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

But still, she's been doing this for decades.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

How long will it take before her time runs out?

 **Isana Chieko**

I don't know, but I hope it's not any time soon.

 **Isana Chieko**

In their current states, neither Kururi-chan nor Izaya-kun can bear much of reality.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

How long do you think it'll take before they can?

 **Isana Chieko**

I don't know.

 **Isana Chieko**

All we can do is do what we've always done: support and watch them from a distance.

 **Isana Chieko**

I'll be signing off now, Tsukumoya-sama

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Alright, I'll await your next report, Chieko-san.

 _ **Isana Chieko, confirmed dead!**_

* * *

" _Chiiieeekooo-chaaan!"_

The brunette shopkeeper sighed, her lips quirked up into a smile as she gently closed her laptop. Looking up from her seat by the cashier, she greeted her regular customer and occasionally annoying friend. "Hello, Namiko-san. What can I do for you?"

"Aww…" The other brunette pouted, crossing her arms as she stood in front of the cashier. "I told you to call me 'Namiko-chan'! We're friends, so that should be okay."

"That's why I keep using '-san'," laughed Chieko.

" _Chieeekooo-chaaan…"_ The ex-assassin whined, earning another giggle from the aforementioned glasses-wearing brunette. "People say that you're nice and all but I know your true nature, you fox!"

 _If only she knows how accurate that statement is…_

Chieko chuckled, setting her laptop aside, "What are you here for, Namiko-san? Milk? Pastry? Or…?"

"That's right!" Namiko grinned, "I want information, informant-chan."

" _Part-time_ information broker," She tacked on, sighing as her friend ignored her usual insistence on her title for the umpteenth time. "Anyway, you need to pay."

"Aww, no discount for your friend?"

"Of course not," The shopkeeper smiled pleasantly, "Knowledge is expensive, after all. As well as the taxes in Tokyo."

"You _scrooge,_ " The underground freelancer mocked sighed, though the smile tugging her lips belied her words, "Here I am, a single mother of two teenage boys, and you still want to rip off your friend?

"Said friend who attends nightly poker games and do other questionable things," She replied calmly, holding out a hand, "The money, please."

"At least you're polite while ripping off your friend," Namiko replied, theatrically drooping her shoulders as she handed her three bills.

Chieko continued to smile pleasantly as she tucked the money into her cashier, "A little politeness goes a long way. Now what do you wish to know, Namiko-san?"

"I heard that my son recently came here with another boy," the ex-assassin said, "I want to know the boy's name, address, age, background, etcetera, etcetera. Basically anything you can scrounge up."

"For that, I'll need more," She held up her hand once again, "That boy is one of my clients. I need a little more _'incentive'_ to give up my client's information."

"Oh?" The other brunette narrowed her eyes, "One of your clients, hmm? You're willing to sell of your clients for cash? Whatever happened to client confidentiality?"

Chieko chuckled, "Don't go playing devil advocate now, Namiko-san. Aren't you asking about your son's friend's information an invasion of privacy? Why don't you get straight to the point?"

"As sharp as ever," Namiko huffed, "If you were anyone else, I would have believed that you're the kind to sell _any_ information to the highest bidder." Namiko crossed her arms over her chest and smirked, "But you're _not, informant-chan._ You're not even the type to carelessly drop important information like your client. You wouldn't have mentioned that the boy is your client unless you're planning something."

" _Part-time_ informant," The shopkeeper reminded her again, smiling a wide, close-mouthed and eyes-squinted smile, akin to that of a fox's. She tilted her head, light catching on her glasses as she looked up at her contemplatively, "I suppose you're too smart for me to trick, but I don't have to explain anything to you, do I? Unless you're willing to pay, of course."

"Heh," Laughter burst from Namiko's throat, quickly dissolving into chuckles as she shook her head. "Nah, there's no need. If the boy caught _your_ interest, oh-neutral _informant-chan,_ then I'm sure I'll cross paths with him soon enough, especially if he's my son's friend." Chocolate-brown eyes gleamed with sharpness befitting of a veteran of the darker side of the city, "But I _have_ paid, Chieko-chan, so I want at least his name."

"It's _part-time_ informant, Namiko-san," Chieko sighed with practiced exasperation. "Very well, I suppose you _do_ deserve that much."

 _And I want to know what you'll do next. Did your grandfather, Yukine-kun, told you of the name of his saviour, my master? If he did, do you remember it? What will you do next?_

"His name is Orihara Izaya."

 _Do you even realise how deeply entangled the fates of the Heiwajima family and Orihara family are?_

There was no hint of recognition in Namiko's eyes. It didn't disappoint Chieko; if anything, it stirred a sense of interest in her. Perhaps it was for the best that her human friend didn't recognise the name. If she did, then the ruse would end, Kururi and Izaya would wake up from their 'dream', and only disaster would follow soon after.

 _My master would never return._

So, as interested as Chieko was if her human friend recognised the name, she was glad that she didn't.

"Orihara Izaya, huh…" The former leader of the Red Hounds nodded, "His parents sure have an…interesting…sense of names."

The shopkeeper laughed. _If only she knows._

"Yes," Chieko laughed, "You can say that."

"Alright, thank you, Chieko-chan." Namiko smiled cheerfully, bracing her hands on the desk and leaning forward, her shadow falling threateningly over the other. "Ah, but if your 'plan' hurt my son in anyway…if he so much as get a _scratch_ from your plan…" The underground freelancer flicked her wrist—her switchblade landing on her palm from its hidden pocket in her sleeve—and gently caressed the edge of the blade against her friend's cheek. The steel of the knife reflected Namiko's grin. "Then there _will_ be consequences, Chieko-chan, and I'm pretty sure you know what that'll be."

"Of course," Chieko smiled back, as pleasant as ever despite the knife at her cheek, "I wouldn't _dream_ of it, Namiko-san."

 _It wouldn't be because of me that your son will be dragged into the world you tried to leave but can't._

 _I warned him, but he has already made his choice._

 _I wonder what will you do when you realise that Orihara Izaya is actually Nakura._

Despite her vow of neutrality until her master returned, Chieko felt the beginning of excitement.

 _Master, what will you do in this situation?_

Ignorant of her thoughts, the former leader of the Red Hounds drew back, still smiling that same, cheerful grin as she flicked the switchblade back to its pocket. The mother of two said, "I'm glad we reach an understanding. Thanks for everything, Chieko-chan. I'll see you again."

Chieko smiled as she turned away. "Thanks for coming by. Please come again."

Namiko grinned over her shoulder, wild and cheerful like the hounds she once ruled, and left the shop.

In the silence left behind, the loyal retainer smiled down at her laptop.

* * *

 _Ah, things are changing, the city is stirring, and soon enough, the underground will be buzzing._

 _And in the centre of it all will be those two boys:_

 _Orihara Izaya and Heiwajima Shizuo._

 _They will be the eye of the storm._

 _The storm that will hopefully herald my master's return._

* * *

 **FUN FACTS**

* * *

 **1.** _ **'…**_ _Orihara Natsu-sama, Orihara Shirou-san, and Orihara Kyouko-san?'_ – The canonical names of Izaya's family. Orihara Natsu is his grandmother, Orihara Shirou is his father, and Orihara Kyouko is his mother. These names are revealed in _'Izaya Surprise Confidential Report'_ where Izaya tested Tsukumoya Shinichi's investigation skills.

 **2.** _'The Heiwajima family and Orihara family have been closely entwined ever since my master became friends with their ancestor….As proof of that eternal friendship, my master gave the Heiwajima family a special pair of white daggers they made with their own blood and flames…'_ – If you guys remember the chapter, _History in Snow,_ then you know who I'm referring to. It's Orihara Kanra. As for why they kept using the pronoun _'they'_ instead of _'she'_ , remember that Kanra is a kitsune and can change forms freely, into a boy, a girl, and any kind of animals.


	20. Dies Natalis

_Another year had gone by,_

 _Another year had passed,_

 _Happy birthday to you,_

 _Happy birthday to you,_

 _You, who remained wilfully oblivious in a dream._

* * *

Chapter 13: Dies Natalis

* * *

Isana Chieko's report had been as informative as always.

Izaya grinned as he thumbed through the folder in the sanctity of his bedroom. It would have been better if she had sent it by email—less risky for both parties—but the shopkeeper was surprisingly traditional at times. Not that it mattered, as in the end, Izaya still has the information he needed in his hands and she got the payment she wanted. Besides, nobody involved in the underground scene—no matter if she insisted that she was only a _'part-time'_ informant—was relatively normal. As far as Izaya was concerned, this little quirk of hers was harmless.

 _(There were more, of course, stirring beneath the surface, but for now Izaya was content to let it be. She was a valuable pawn, after all, giving him knowledge he wouldn't otherwise have. That was the extent of her usefulness though, and once he graduated and was free to become an informant himself he would cut her loose.)_

 _(Izaya knew she was planning something. What though, is beyond him. It didn't matter though, because in the end, it would be Izaya standing at the top, and her laid on his feet.)_

 _(He couldn't wait to see all the ways she would break.)_

 _(After all, humans were the most fascinating creatures in the world, ne?)_

As he lain on his stomach on his futon, he flicked through the papers of her report. The first page was a general overview of the Jyan Jakka Jyan gang; who was the boss, key members, history and activities, etc, etc. The second page onwards was more interesting, telling him of all the minute details of the gang. How hotheaded the leader, Ishikawa Daisuke, was. The recent friction between them and the Blue Squares, sparked when the latter group had attacked one of its members on accident. The sizeable territory they own in Ikebukuro and the Awakusu-kai's interest in them.

Plots and plans swirled in his head, mapped out by the information he knew, as anticipation settled deep in his bones.

 _Oh, what will they do if I stir things up a bit?_

 _What kind of expressions can I see?_

 _What facet of humanity will be revealed?_

 _Will they do as I predict, or will I find the rare outlier that defies my predictions?_

 _So far I have worked on individuals, but can I do the same to groups as well?_

 _Oh! I can't wait! I can't wait!_

Grinning, he sat up and walked towards his desk, placing the folder securely inside a drawer. He put on the black jacket he had draped over the back of his chair. Slipping his hands into its pockets, he thumbed his switchblade, his ever-trusty weapon.

The sky tonight was dark, heavy with thick, roiling clouds that not even the moonlight could pierce through.

It was the perfect night for trouble.

That is until he heard a knock on his door.

Frowning, he opened the door. There were only two other people in the house, and if _they_ knocked on his door at this hour—or at _any_ hour at all—then that meant they wanted something. And that usually spelled trouble for him.

"What now?" Izaya stared down at Mairu as he leant against the doorframe.

"Kururi-nee's sick," His little sister answered, worrying her lips as she stared up at him with wide, panicked russet eyes. "She's tossing and turning and burning up and—!"

"Alright, alright, I got it," He raised a placating hand, sighing wearily, "Sounds like she got a fever. Come on, I'll check up on her before I buy her medicine."

 _Well, seems like my plans have to wait another night._

Regrettable, but doable. It would take a couple of days to lay out the groundwork anyway. The actual fireworks would take quite a while to get to, but he was patient, and more importantly, flexible. There would be time for him to conduct his plans after making sure his sisters were fine.

 _I can't wait to test myself._

 _(This would be his first large-scale plan; a city-wide plot that could impact the big players of Ikebukuro's underground. Could he handle it? Would he walked away unscathed?)_

 _(Izaya was certain that he could.)_

Now, however, he had to play the role of big brother.

Mairu and Kururi slept in the same room, right across the hallway of his bedroom. The door creaked slightly as he opened it, the inside barely visible until he flicked the lights on. In the middle of the room was an oversized futon where his sisters slept together. Currently, however, there was only Kururi, curled up pitifully under the blankets that Izaya could only see the peak of her brunet head.

He knelt down by her head, placing a hand over the covers. "Kururi."

"Mmm…" His sister gave a pained moan in response, blearily turning and peeking up at him. "…Iza…nii…?"

"I'm here," Izaya said softly, "How are you feeling?"

"Hot…"

"Do you need anything?" He asked, gently patting her sweaty forehead.

"Water…" Kururi murmured weakly.

He nodded. Glancing at Mairu, he requested. "Can you get a glass of water, Mairu?"

Her twin nodded, immediately running downstairs towards the kitchen. He could hear the pitter-patter of her feet receding as she went down the stairs. Turning his attention back to Kururi, he stroked her hair.

"Do you need anything else?" He murmured softly, her tangle of dark-brown hair brushing past his fingers.

"Iza-nii…" She feebly responded, and for a moment, he thought she was simply calling his name. He quickly realised, however, that she was answering his question.

"I'm here," He repeated, crossing his legs to get comfortable.

"Will…you…leave…?"

Izaya sighed, "I need to go later to buy your medicine, Kururi."

"But…" His sister blearily opened her eyes, slowly, weakly reaching out to grab the cuffs of his sleeve. "After…?"

"I'll stay until you get better."

Kururi blinked; a slow, long brush of her lashes against her cheeks as she stared up at him, still gripping his sleeve in her smaller hands. "Don't…leave…"

"I won't," Izaya promised quietly. An unbidden, bitter smile crossed his lips. "I'm not like our parents."

Kururi nodded; long and slow, before drifting off to sleep.

Izaya stayed by her side until Mairu returned.

* * *

Izaya didn't go to school.

Kururi's fever had taken a turn for the worse. His younger sister had taken to tossing and turning in her sleep, muttering incoherently under her breath, sometimes in languages Izaya had never heard of. Occasionally, she would wake up with glassy russet eyes—and those moments were the worse. She would stare at him uncomprehendingly, eyes watery and lips quivering. One day, she _actually_ burst into tears in front of him, clutching his shirt and sobbing into his chest, crying incomprehensibly about something or another.

 _("Please…don't go…don't go…don't go…")_

 _("I'm here," Izaya would repeat over and over, carding his fingers through her hair.)_

 _("You're not…" Kururi cried, sobbing into his lap, "You're gone…you're gone…gone…")_

And sometimes, she would stare at Mairu in confusion, as if she couldn't recognise her own twin.

 _("Who…" She asked, looking at her sister, "…are you?")_

 _(The smile Mairu gave was slightly pained, but she hid it behind a cheerful façade, "I'm your sister, Mairu!")_

 _(Kururi frowned in return, scrunching up her brows as she continued to stare at her silently with confused russet eyes.)_

Izaya ended up more or less confined to the house—having to periodically check up on Kururi—though that didn't prevent him from plotting. Mairu insisted that she stayed as well, but he wouldn't allow her to skip school just because their sister was sick. He was already taking care of Kururi, so Mairu might as well go to her preschool and out of his hair for a few hours.

Sometimes, he wondered how Shizuo was faring. Was he confused when Izaya didn't show up at their usual meeting place on Monday? Did he wait at that junction until he was almost late? How angry was he when he realised that Izaya wasn't going to show up? What did he destroy in his rage? And how did he take the news of him taking care of his sister when the teacher announced his absence?

 _(Was he mad that he never called? Izaya had his number stored in his phone and memorised in his mind. Often, he would find himself dialling the number, thumb hovering over the 'call' button, before he ultimately decided against it.)_

 _(Orihara Izaya didn't need—nor will_ _ **ever**_ _need—anyone but himself.)_

Sometimes, he wondered how Shinra was, too, before deciding that the future doctor was fine with his absence.

 _(He envied Shinra, sometimes. He has the ability to be so removed from everything, standing distantly in a world of his own making that nothing could touch him. And when he deigned to look at the world others inhabited, he did so with such accuracy that Izaya envied.)_

 _(It was the kind of existence Izaya aspired to have.)_

In the meantime, whenever Kururi was peacefully asleep and Mairu was in preschool, Izaya would scour the report Chieko gave him for any further insight he could use.

In this new game of his, which side would he play?

 _(The answer was easy; his own, of course.)_

What should he do to trigger the chain of events that will lead him to a satisfying climax, all the while remaining untouched in this tangled web of his own making?

 _(The right time, the right person, the right place—he could do this.)_

He had never done this before.

He had never _tried_ tobefore.

And now that he was on the brink of facing that unknown, Izaya felt the chills of excitement crawl upon his skin.

The Blue Squares—they were his key in. The Jyan Jakka Jyan gang was mostly comprised of adults, and while he was reasonably certain of his abilities, it was better to be safe than sorry. These were, after all, men who have years of experience against him. In comparison, the Blue Squares were filled with teens around his age—the kind of people he used to manipulate; hotheaded and oh-so eager to manipulate. Yes, the Blue Squares were his key in.

He typed an email under an alias— _Psyche_ —and sent it to the leader of the Blue Squares, Ran Izumii.

 _Come now, shark, take my bait…_

Izaya grinned when he received a reply.

* * *

It was three days into his absence when Izaya received an unexpected visitor.

He was stirring up a pot of soup for Kururi—his other hand typing up a reply to Izumii about a possible partnership—when he heard a knock on the door. Frowning, he set the stove to a simmer. Nobody really visited them anymore. In the past—before he entered middle school—there was a strange masked man who called himself their uncle who took care of them and taught Izaya the ropes. Oddly enough, Izaya couldn't remember his name, and wasn't sure if it was ever given in the first place. Never mind their parents—who never came to visit since they went abroad a long time ago. Therefore, it was only natural for the brunet to be suspicious of his unexpected visitor.

The knocking grew louder; more of a bang than a rap against the door now.

"I'm coming!" He shouted to the visitor, grabbing his switchblade and pocketing it in his jeans. The knocks stopped; the visitor now willing to be patient after they had heard Izaya's reply.

Schooling his face into a mask of genial hospitality, Izaya opened the door. "Wel— _Shizuo!?"_

At his front door, Shizuo stood, one hand tightly gripping a white plastic bag while the other clutched the strap of his bag. Scowling heavily, the blond nearly growled, "Izaya-kun."

"Shizu-chan," The brunet replied, painting a smirk over his lips as he leaned against the doorframe, "What brings you to my humble abode? In fact, how did you even find it in the first place? I don't recall ever giving a monster my address."

" _God,"_ The blond sighed, still scowling at him. "Why are you always such a brat? I asked a teacher for your address since you didn't tell me where you live so that I can give you your homework." Shizuo glared at him accusingly, as if he had committed some heinous crime. "Why didn't you tell me it's your birthday today?"

"How did you know _that?"_ Izaya questioned, still not moving from his place by the door.

"Shinra told me," Shizuo answered, frowning at him. Something like _hurt_ glinted in his amber eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I hardly think my birthday is anything significant."

Shizuo blinked, frown easily falling in exchange for shock. The brute has such an open heart and open expression that it felt almost criminal for him to see all those open emotions so easily.

 _Almost._

"Of _course_ it's important!" exclaimed Shizuo, clearly taken aback, "It's your _birthday!_ The day of your birth, a celebration of another year passed. Parties, presents. Of course it's important!"

Izaya scoffed. "Perhaps for you, but certainly not for me. I've never celebrated my birthday."

" _Never?"_ He gasped, "But what about your parents? Don't _they_ ever throw you a birthday party?"

"It doesn't matter," The brunet shrugged easily, "Anyway, are you done here? Just give me my homework and go home."

"No," Shizuo stated firmly, his frown back in place. This time though, there was something different; the firm set of his jaw and gleam in his amber eyes indicating a determination that could match even Izaya's stubbornness. "May you let me in? I have something for you."

Crimson eyes narrowed. "My sister is sick."

"It's fine, I don't get sick easily." The blond replied. "May you let me in?"

Izaya crossed his arms. "You can give it to me right now."

"Fine," Shizuo said gruffly, before sighing; still stubborn, still determined, but it was obvious that a part of him was relenting…almost—incredulously— _shy._ He held up the plastic bag. "This is for you."

"Oh?" The brunet blinked, taking the offered bag. He peered down at it curiously and warily. "What's this? A box and a book?"

"It's cake. Or, well, a slice of cake. Sorry, but I don't have enough for a whole cake…" mumbled Shizuo, shifting from side to side, eyes averted to the ground. "And that's a book. Ah, I mean, _obviously_ —but that's 'bout psychology. I know that you like observing other people and all so I thought…"

"A cake," Izaya stated sceptically, "And a _book_."

Red flushed the other's cheeks in embarrassment. "Yeah, well, I didn't know it was your birthday today until Shinra told me. If I had known earlier, I could have saved up money for something else. Sorry, but I couldn't afford something else…"

 _It's not that_ , thought Izaya, still staring at him in incredulous surprise. It was the fact that he gave a present _at all_ that threw the brunet into a loop. Nobody had ever done that—not his parents, not the strange nameless guy he once called uncle, and not his sisters who were too young to buy him gifts. Not even _Shinra_ gave him gifts—given that he couldn't care less about anything or anyone not related to his dear Celty—and he was pretty much his friend in name. Nobody had ever bothered to give him cake either—even if it _was_ only a slice—or told him anything remotely close to a _"Happy birthday"_ , until Izaya had almost forgotten the significance of May 4th.

"Don't apologise," He said before he realised what he was saying and looked away. From his peripheral vision, he could see Shizuo blinked, clearly surprised, but the brunet focused more attention on keeping the warm flush creeping up from his heart to reach his cheeks. He failed, however, to keep a small smile off his face; a tiny hint of the great happiness swelling up inside his chest, threatening to overflow him with tears he never cried before.

He could only hope that—with his bangs falling against his eyes, head tilted downwards to shadow his expression and gaze turned elsewhere—Shizuo wouldn't see the play of emotions across his face, the momentary break in his façade.

 _(Despite his best attempts though, Shizuo caught a glimpse of a rare, true smile and watery eyes threatening to spill tears with happiness.)_

Perhaps it was the present that convinced him, or maybe it was his temporary lapse in judgement due to Shizuo's usual unpredictability, but Izaya found himself opened the door a bit wider; turning his back on him and entering the house, keeping the door open with a foot in a clear, wordless invitation. His gaze is still aimed downwards, lips slightly quivering as he tried to draw out an expression of annoyance against the swelling happiness, and eyes blinking fast and hard to prevent tears from spilling forth, and so he missed the curious look on Shizuo's face; an appraising expression as the blond took in the way the brunet's mask was breaking, before it was swept away with realisation. When Izaya looked up—fairly certain he regained a good grasp on his expressions once more—he saw Shizuo in the threshold of his house, smiling kindly down at him.

Izaya found it an odd _(and yet—a small, unnoticeable part of him admitted—_ _ **charming**_ _)_ expression on the usually scowling or frowning blond.

It was also disconcertingly _familiar._

 _Where have I seen it before?_

Izaya swallowed down the lump in his throat, removing his foot from the door and letting it swing shut on its own. He watched as his…friend…remove his shoes, before placing them on the shoe rack by the front door. When Shizuo's attention turned back to him, Izaya had garnered enough control of himself to create a facsimile of his usual smirk.

"Now don't go and make a ruckus here," He said over his shoulder as he headed to the kitchen. Shizuo followed him, and as he opened the fridge door and carefully placed the box of cake inside, Izaya looked up and smirk. "After all, my sister's still asleep. You wouldn't want to wake her, now do you?"

"Tch, you don't have to be an ass about it," Shizuo grumbled, frowning as he took in the interior of the house. Izaya wasn't quite sure what the other found disagreeable about it—perhaps monsters have a dislike towards neat, orderly houses?—before the blond asked. "Hey, where are your parents? Shouldn't they be the ones taking care of your sister?"

"Who knows, who cares," Izaya shrugged, going up the stairs to his room, smiling his usual close-mouthed, eyes-squinted, fox-like smile; a veneer of apathy, "It doesn't matter. I don't need them anyway."

From the way Shizuo was scowling at him as he followed behind him, it was obvious that the blond disagreed. "Of course it matters. They're your _parents_. They're supposed to be looking out for you guys." The blond glanced around the hallway of his bedroom, his lips and brows creased with the weight of frustration. "Where are they? I don't even see any pictures of them."

"Like I said before, Shizu-chan," He replied as he opened his door and entered his bedroom. "It doesn't matter."

Izaya took a seat next to his rolled up futon, taking out the book from the plastic bag. _The Interpretation of Dreams_ , the cover read, and Izaya had to contain a laugh as he saw it. _Of course_ the brute would pick something by Sigmund Freud, one of the most famous psychologists in the world. It would be an interesting read, no doubt, but it wasn't exactly the first thing Izaya would have picked. Freud's theory of the unconscious with respect of dream interpretation was fascinating, but given the subjective nature of dreams it wasn't really _practical_. If Izaya had to pick a book to read, he would have chosen B.F. Skinner's _The Behaviour of Organisms_ or Jean Piaget's _Origins of Intelligence in the Child._ At least with those he could apply in the real world.

Still, he smiled down at it as he placed it on his bookshelf.

 _(Nobody had ever given him such a thoughtful gift before.)_

"You keep saying that it doesn't matter, but of course it does," The blond argued, taking a seat on the floor, right across him. His…friend…eyed the go board between them dubiously, frowning at the seemingly random, mismatched pieces of chess, shogi, and Othello. "Parents are supposed to look after their children. That's practically their _job_."

"Well, obviously they have more important jobs to care about." Izaya replied, absentmindedly moving a pawn forwards as he remembered his deal with Izumii. "Your childhood must be absolutely _idyllic_ for you to come up with such naïve notions. Makes one wonder how you came to be a monster."

Shizuo frowned, ignoring the usual jab, "Wait—does that mean _nobody_ cared about you? No wonder you're such a mess."

That—Izaya wouldn't admit it, because that would mean conceding to the brute, but Shizuo managed to hit the nail with that one _again_. _Tch,_ he scowled inwardly, _such unpredictable monster. Why can't you stay one way and not the other?_

If Shizuo displayed his usual level of stupidity, then Izaya could deal with him. If he displayed this keen insight on a usual basis, then Izaya could learn to adapt to it too. But _no,_ the brute had to be _both_. He would insist of a dumb idea—lulling Izaya into a sense of safe superiority—before turning the tables on him with lightning-quick accuracy. In doing so, the brute would unravel his sense of control, sending the brunet off-kilter as he scrambled for a reply that wouldn't show his weaknesses. If Shizuo was only one way or another—if he was _predictable_ —then Izaya wouldn't have _hated_ him.

Except, that wasn't true. In the face of his unrelenting kindness, and eagerness for friendship, and the homemade lunches, Izaya was forced to admit that it wasn't _Shizuo_ himself that he hated. No, it was the way he _affected_ him. The way he could easily pull his strings without a thought, controlling him without realizing it. Izaya _hated_ the way Shizuo could make him act, could make him _feel._

The worst part was that Shizuo had _no idea_ what he could do to him.

 _(And…that scared him, if he was honest, which only occurred once in a blue moon. Shizuo's strength was nothing compared to how easily he could break him with only a word.)_

 _(Yet he couldn't distance himself away from him, nor remove him from his sights. One way or another, Shizuo would always find his way into Izaya's actions. That left him with nothing more to do than watch with encroaching dread for the inevitable day Shizuo would leave, just like everyone else.)_

Perhaps that was why he said:

"Oh, Shizu-chan," Izaya laughed, "You overestimate the importance of others in my life. I make myself, you see? It's the choices I make that define me, and _nothing_ else."

 _(Was it true, though? Or was that another lie he had accepted as truth from repetition?)_

The look in the blond's face was almost _pitying_ , "Then you made some pretty shitty decisions, Izaya-kun."

 _Yes, and the worst one I made is sitting here staring at me._

"Ah, but enough of that," He dismissed the topic easily. Shizuo looked as if he would argue, but the brunet pressed on, tilting his head at the board between them and giving a smirk towards the blond. "Care for a game?"

"Izaya-kun…" Shizuo sighed, reluctantly accepting the dismissal for today. He had no doubt that he would one day bring it up, and Izaya dreaded the day that would happen. Frowning down at the board game, Shizuo said. "I don't even know what that is. Are you playing shogi, chess, go, or Othello?"

"Yes and no," Izaya grinned in delight that was only partially faked. "You play it like this…"

The board was reset as he explained his game, never telling Shizuo that he also used this board to plot his general plans on the gangs of Ikebukuro. No, that was an unnecessary detail as they played again and again—Shizuo losing miserably to Izaya and the brunet laughing at his loses; almost genuinely at ease. No, there was no need for Shizuo—with his monstrous strength, hair-trigger temper, and unpredictability—to know the inner workings of his plan, to take part—whether knowingly or not—in his schemes.

No, Shizuo—with his too-kind heart, open emotions, and acceptance—would not, _could not_ , be a pawn in his plots.

Not only was he too dangerous for Izaya, he was also—Shizuo was also—

 _(The book in his shelf.)_

 _(The cake in his fridge.)_

 _(This harmless game between them.)_

Izaya wouldn't allow it.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

This was supposed to be for Izaya's birthday, but I kind of procrastinate so it ended up a day late T^T. Sorry Izaya, and happy belated birthday! ^_^

On another note, Izaya, stop _spewing out trouble!_ Honestly, one of these days you really will get killed. Luckily for you that Shizuo's around to protect you, huh? ;D

Ah, well…once an annoying flea, always an annoying flea, even after Shizuo befriended him. Hahaha, what do you guys think about this chapter?

* * *

 **FUN FACTS**

* * *

 **1.** _Dies Natalis_ **–** Latin for _'day of birth'_ or _'anniversary'._

 **2.** ' _(It was the kind of existence Izaya aspired to have.)'_ – Ironically, Shinra is like this because his all-consuming love for Celty took his whole attention, and so he doesn't care about anything not relating to Celty. In other words, Shinra is like this because of his _love for another person_ —the very same emotion that the current Izaya will do anything to deny.

 **3.** ' _Come now, shark, take my bait…'_ – Aoba and the Blue Squares have a shark theme going on. You can see it in the anime that some of its members wear shark masks. That's why I thought that it's only fitting for Izaya to call Izumii _'shark'._

 **4.** ' _He was stirring up a pot of soup for Kururi—his other hand typing up a reply to Izumii about a possible partnership—when he heard a knock on the door'_ – I just find the image of Izaya doing something as domestic as _cooking_ while plotting to be really funny. ^_^

 **5.** _'…_ _there was a strange masked man who called himself their uncle who took care of them and taught Izaya the ropes.' –_ (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

 **6.** ' _(Despite his best attempts though, Shizuo caught a glimpse of a rare, true smile and watery eyes threatening to spill tears with happiness.)'_ – My headcanon is that Izaya _never_ cries, unless he's really, really, _really_ happy about something. Like, you can subject him to the worst pain and torture you can think of and he'll just laugh it off. But give him something that can make him smile, show him that you really care about him, and I bet that's when he'll cry

 **7.** _'_ _It was also disconcertingly_ _ **familiar**_ _.'_ – A nod to Heiwajima Namiko, or as Izaya still knew her as, 'Benihime'.

 **8.** _The Interpretation of Dreams_ by Sigmund Freud – The book introduces Freud's theory of the unconscious with respect to dream interpretation, and also first discusses what would later become the theory of the Oedipus complex. Freud revised the book at least eight times and, in the third edition, added an extensive section which treated dream symbolism very literally, following the influence of Wilhelm Stekel. Freud said of this work, "Insight such as this falls to one's lot but once in a lifetime." (Source: Wikipedia)

Personally, while Freud's theories have been useful in increasing the interest in psychology and provided some breakthrough in the insight of the human mind, I don't really like his theories. First, he's pretty misogynistic _(just look up his theory of the female Oedipus Complex)_ , though I do understand that was the standards of his time. Second, it's not really quantifiable, observable, or falsiable. For a theory to be acceptable in the scientific domain, it must be able to measure things, be observable, capable of predicting cause-and-effects, and can be criticised so that it can be improved upon. There's no such thing as a perfect theory, and that's why Freud's insistence that his theory is the best kind of rubbed off on me in the wrong way.

 **9.** B.F. Skinner's _The Behaviour of Organisms –_ _The Behavior of Organisms_ is B.F. Skinner's first book and was published in May 1938 as a volume of the Century Psychology Series. It set out the parameters for the discipline that would come to be called the experimental analysis of behaviour (EAB) and Behaviour Analysis. (Source: Wikipedia)

B.F. Skinner is one of the major psychologists in the field of Behaviourism, which was the primary paradigm in psychology between 1920 to 1950, and is based on a number of underlying assumptions regarding methodology and behavioural analysis: (1) All behaviour is learnt from the environment, (2) Psychology should be seen as a science, (3) Behaviourism is primarily concerned with observable behaviour, as opposed to internal events like thinking and emotion, (4) There is little difference between the learning that takes place in humans and that in other animals, and (5) Behaviour is the result of stimulus – response. His major contribution in the field of psychology is the concept of Operant Conditioning, which is how behaviour is acquired as a result of punishments and rewards.

Think about it, why do you spend your time reading this fic when you can do something else? If we apply operant conditioning, we can say that it is because the fic makes you feel good (reward), and because there's no observable harm (punishment) in doing so. Does that make sense? Of course, there's a whole lot behind the theory than described here, but for the sake of the Fun Fact, I'll keep it short.

 **10.** Jean Piaget's _Origins of Intelligence in the Child_ – Deals with the origins of intelligence in children and contains original observations on young children, novel experiments, brilliant in their simplicity, which the author describes in detail. Piaget divides the growth of intelligence into six sequential stages: the use of reflexes; the first acquired adaptations and primary circular reaction; secondary circular reactions and the child's procedures for prolonging spectacles interesting to him. (Source: Goodreads)

Piaget is one of the most influential developmental psychologists. In fact, his theories are still used today. For example, his theory of the Stages of Development is still used in teaching children:

The first stage, **Sensorimotor** , occurs from birth to 2 years old, and this stage focuses on object permanence, where a child comes to realise that objects continue to exist even if they aren't seen or heard by the child. This is why babies and toddlers react to games like 'Peek-a-boo!' or Jack-in-the-box.

The second stage **, Preoperational** , occurs between 2 to 7 years old, and focuses on egocentrism. During this stage, children are not able to understand the point of view of others. That's why some children may unintentionally do cruel things, like tug someone's hair or take away their toys, because they don't see that it hurts others as they don't get hurt by the act. That being said, if you point out observable behaviours (like, you say that the other kid is crying because the child takes their toy) or concrete examples (like, "if I pinch you, you feel hurt, right? That's how the other kid feels") then they usually understand that.

The third stage, **Concrete Operational,** occurs between 7 to 11 years old. This stage focuses on conservation, meaning that children are still not able to understand concepts that are abstract or hypothetical, but can begin thinking logically about events. For example, you show two glasses of equal volume but of different heights to a child in this stage. Usually, the child would say that the taller glass contained more water because of its height.

The last stage, **Formal Operational** , occurs from 11 years to older. This stage focuses on the child's ability to manipulate ideas in their heads, or think abstractly. It is during this stage that deductive reasoning, logical thought, and systematic planning emerge. That's why it's around this age when you start getting tougher homework, such as making essays or case studies, as you are thought to be able to do those activities now.


	21. Another Side, Another Story (3)

**Chatroom Names:**

 **Red Sea** – _Heiwajima Namiko_

 **Tiger** – _Hirabayashi Tomone_

 **Names and character bios can be seen in my Tumblr account, under the 'My Art' section.**

* * *

 _It began with a dream,_

 _A single, wordless melody,_

 _Then more pieces were added,_

 _Notes joined together in a harmonious symphony,_

 _From nothingness I came,_

 _Called forth by your sweet song._

* * *

Another Side, Another Story [3] – Orihara Mairu

* * *

Orihara Mairu wasn't human.

In fact, she considered herself less than that—much more so than her 'siblings'.

And yet here she was; living, breathing, doing all sorts of things she wasn't supposed to be able to do because she was never _born,_ never attained a concrete existence like her 'siblings', never a part of the natural world like everyone else.

But—

Orihara Mairu had _feelings,_ had a _heart,_ and a _mind—_ and perhaps—even a _soul._ She was less than human and yet she possessed all those things. From nothingness she came, but she didn't remain 'nothing'.

No.

She became a sister. A friend. A guardian. A protector.

And in return for this ephemeral existence, Orihara Mairu swore she would restore Kururi and Izaya back to their former selves.

* * *

 _ **Orihara Mairu, reborn!**_

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Hello, Mairu. Shouldn't you be at preschool by now?

 **Orihara Mairu**

As if I actually _need_ to go there. You know as well as I do that the only reason I attend is to keepan eye on Kuru-nee and uphold this masquerade.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Hahaha, that's true. So what brings you to my chatroom?

 **Orihara Mairu**

Oh nothing much. Just spying on my brother.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Is that really the sort of thing you can state out loud?

 **Orihara Mairu**

There's only you and me here, Tsukumoya. And it's not as if you're going to blabber off to anyone.

 **Orihara Mairu**

…Are you?

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Of course not, Mairu.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Well, unless it's Amy asking.

 **Orihara Mairu**

Amy…well, if it's her, I understand.

 **Orihara Mairu**

Nobody can deny Amaterasu-omikami-sama, after all. Goddess of the Sun and Supreme Ruler of Takamagahara and all that.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Yes. I expect a call from her soon, actually.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

She'll want an update on yours and your siblings' situation.

 **Orihara Mairu**

Me and my 'siblings', huh…

 **Orihara Mairu**

Tsukumoya, do you believe that someone—some _thing_ —like me deserve to call them 'family'?

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Of course you do, Mairu, and I believe that they will say the same thing when they know the truth.

 **Orihara Mairu**

If you say so…

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

I believe so.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Anyway, what caught your attention so as to call me?

 **Orihara Mairu**

I just remembered Chieko-san's report.

 **Orihara Mairu**

I read it, but I can't actually believe it's happening.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

What happened?

 **Orihara Mairu**

Heiwajima Shizuo came over, gave Iza-nii a birthday cake and present, and is currently playing Iza-nii's bizarre board game with him.

 **Orihara Mairu**

I'm currently spying on them from the rooftop of the building opposite of the house, by the way.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

That's really something. Hahaha, who knew that he can get such a good friend with his currently awful personality?

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

But this is exactly what you're hoping for, isn't it?

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

After all, it's no coincidence that you and your siblings live in the same city as the Heiwajima.

 **Orihara Mairu**

I simply 'remembered' Yukine-san's promise.

 **Orihara Mairu**

Besides, it all started with their ancestor, so it's fitting for their line to help out. Kind of like completing a circle, don't you think?

 **Orihara Mairu**

The past and the future meet in the present, connected by the strings of fate we create by our choices.

 **Orihara Mairu**

It's awfully poetic, don't you agree, Tsukumoya?

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Hahaha, that's true. Forgive me, but I didn't take you as a poet, Mairu.

 **Orihara Mairu**

I'm not. It's just an observation I made.

 **Orihara Mairu**

Still, it's so fitting, I can't help but laugh, too.

 **Orihara Mairu**

Anyway, I'm interested in this friendship.

 **Orihara Mairu**

Will it really help Iza-nii return to his former self, like you said, or will it make him regress instead?

 **Orihara Mairu**

I want to know.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Mairu…if you are thinking what I think you're thinking…I won't advise you to do it.

 **Orihara Mairu**

But you won't stop me either.

 **Orihara Mairu**

Admit it, you're also curious to see how this goes.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

…What will you do?

 **Orihara Mairu**

Test him, of course.

 **Orihara Mairu**

If this friendship is true, then Iza-nii gets confirmation that someone _does_ care about him.

 **Orihara Mairu**

If it's not, then Iza-nii doesn't need him anyway.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

…Very well then.

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

I'll inform Chieko-san. Do whatever you think is right to acquire our desired end result.

 **Orihara Mairu**

I intend to.

 _ **Orihara Mairu, confirmed dead!**_

 **Tsukumoya Shinichi**

I just hope you know what you're doing…

* * *

Mairu found Chieko in the grocery store, perusing the vegetables aisle with careful eyes.

"Shouldn't you be at school, Mairu-sama?" The glasses-wearing shopkeeper asked, turning her attention to the seemingly young girl in white hoodie next to her.

"Nah," Mairu flashed a grin up at her. "Preschool's boring without Kuru-nee." The girl tilted her head a little to the left, observing the older woman with russet eyes. "By the way, why do you call me that when you use '-kun' and '-chan' on Iza-nii and Kuru-nee?"

"Because they aren't being their usual selves. When the day comes where they return to what they once were, then I will call them by their proper titles." She picked up a lettuce, and after scrutinising it with a careful eye, placed it on the trolley. "Anyway, I highly doubt this is a social call. I just received an email from Tsukumoya-sama. He said that you got some sort of plan?"

"Yup," replied Mairu, popping the 'p' and smiling. "I'll need a disposable phone for that."

Chieko looked at her. "Will whatever you do involve Shizuo-kun?"

"Of course!" The girl answered, crossing her hands behind her head cheerfully. "He's the main star, after all."

"…Then I don't quite approve of that," The shopkeeper sighed, "But if that's what you wish, Mairu-sama, then I'll help you."

Mairu tilted her head sideways. "Don't tell me you're getting _attached,_ Chieko-san!?"

"He's a good boy," The other replied, shrugging as she went to the fruits section. "I'm sure he would have a bright future ahead of him if it wasn't for us."

"Is that so…?" Mairu followed her, raising and dropping her shoulders in a dismissing move. "Well, that no longer matters. Tell me, who are you more loyal to, Heiwajima Shizuo, or your master, who took you in when you're lost and alone?"

"My master, of course," Chieko stated simply, as if it was fact. And for her, perhaps it was.

Mairu grinned. "Good. That means you'll do anything I ask, right?"

The retainer glanced at her, nodding. "If it brings my master back, then yes."

"Great!" cheered Mairu. "Then I'll need a phone and Heiwajima Shizuo's number."

* * *

 **\- - -San has logged into the chatroom- - -  
**

TheUnconqueredSun: Hi, San-chan! (ノ^∇^)

Red Sea: Nice to see you again

Tiger: San-chan, it's good to see you! Got any new gossip to share?

Setton: Now, now, Tiger, calm down

Setton: Nice to see you again, San

Tiger: Aw, you're no fun, Setton-san

San: Hi

San: What's up?

Red Sea: We were just talking about the gangs in Ikebukuro

Tiger: Yeah, yeah! Apparently the Blue Squares picked a fight with the Jyan Jakka Jyan!

Tiger: Man, I wonder what will happen next? Bet they're gonna retaliate somehow

Tiger: Oooh, it'll be cool if it comes to a gang war!

Setton: Tiger, don't be morbid!

Setton: Maybe it won't come to that

Red Sea. I don't know about that, Setton-kun. I heard that the Jyan Jakkan Jyan is a hotheaded bunch

Red Sea: Same goes to the Blue Squares

Red Sea: I won't be surprised at all if what Tiger said comes true

Setton: Scary

Setton: I hope it doesn't happen anyway. A peaceful Ikebukuro is for the best, right?

Tiger: I think it'll be awesome!

TheUnconqueredSun: Hahaha, there are two types of people （＾_-）

Setton: If there's a gang war, then it'll be dangerous to walk out the streets. Will you guys be ok?

Tiger: I _like_ danger, Setton-san! It's not ordinary at all!

Setton: Haah… _you're_ not ordinary, Tiger

Red Sea: Hahaha, let it be, Setton-kun. I'm sure Tiger will be fine if a gang war breaks out

Tiger: Yep! Don't worry, I know these two guys I can count on if things goes south

Tiger: One's my apartment manager little brother. He drives a van like crazy

Tiger: The other's a schoolmate. He's the same year as I am but in a different class

Tiger: I keep running into him at the most inconvenient times. Or maybe it's convenient? 'Cause he keeps pulling me out of trouble. On the other hand, I kinda _want_ trouble…

Setton: You really need a better sense of self-preservation

Setton: Still, it's good that you have friends you can rely on

Tiger: Yeah, I call them Dota-chin and Sabu-chin

Red Sea: That being said, I think it's best for you not to go looking for trouble, Tiger

TheUnconqueredSun: I don't think Tiger can do that, Red-chan （；￣д￣）

San: Troublemaker

Setton: I agree with Red-san

Tiger: Aww, Setton-san, you're no fun! Trouble is where the adventures start, you know!

Setton: I think you need better survival instincts…

San: Agree

Tiger: (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Red Sea: Hahaha, now don't be that way! We're just looking out for you, Tiger

Red Sea: Anyway, if a gang war _does_ break out, then I'll be worried for my kids

Red Sea: Though considering them, I think those gangs should be more afraid of my kids than each other

TheUnconqueredSun: Wow, your kids sound really strong!

TheUnconqueredSun: As for me, I don't live in Ikebukuro, so I'll be safe ;D

TheUnconqueredSun: But my friends live there so I can't help but worry… (ó﹏ò｡)

Setton: Ah, is that so? Will they be ok?

TheUnconqueredSun: Hmm, I hope so. It's not as if they're helpless of anything too ( ´∀｀)b

TheUnconqueredSun: If anything, I won't be surprised at all if one of them stir up enough trouble to actually _cause_ the gang war ﾍ(￣ ￣;ﾍ)

Setton: Hahaha, come on, don't joke about that

TheUnconqueredSun: ( ^ー^ )

San: Brb

TheUnconqueredSun: Ah, I have something up too. I'll be back soon!

 **\- - -PRIVATE MESSAGING MODE- - -**

San: Amaterasu-sama

TheUnconqueredSun: Mairu-chan! （＾ｖ＾）You know you can drop your online persona here

TheUnconqueredSun: And I told you to call me 'Amy'! (｡+･`ω･´)

San: Sorry. Habit

TheUnconqueredSun: It's fine, it's fine. So what's up?

San: The gang war

TheUnconqueredSun: …Don't tell me it's _actually_ gonna happen

TheUnconqueredSun: I thought it was just a joke! ∑（｡･Д･｡）?

San: No. Very probable

San: I'm testing

TheUnconqueredSun: Who—or perhaps _what_ —are you testing?

San: Friendship

TheUnconqueredSun: I see…Well, I hope it won't backfire on us

TheUnconqueredSun: Is that all you wish to tell me?

San: Heiwajima Shizuo

TheUnconqueredSun: Heiwajima? Hmm…that name rings a bell

San: Of course. It's the same family that

TheUnconqueredSun: Ah, now I remember! ∑(ﾟﾛﾟ〃)

TheUnconqueredSun: Do you recall the God Resurrection Cult?

San: Yes

TheUnconqueredSun: Well, six years ago my men reported a suspicious activity

TheUnconqueredSun: If I remember correctly, Heiwajima Kasuka was kidnapped by them

TheUnconqueredSun: Thankfully, the situation was resolved without any involvement from our side

San: Kidnapped? Why?

TheUnconqueredSun: Not sure…I have to check my files for that

TheUnconqueredSun: Ugh…as wonderful as Takamagahara is, we really should revamp the filing system

TheUnconqueredSun: It's a pain to manually sort through thousands of files and manuscripts ( ≧Д≦)

San: You're the Empress

TheUnconqueredSun: True…I _can_ order someone to do it for me

TheUnconqueredSun: But if that cult is involved than I rather do it personally

San: Work?

TheUnconqueredSun: Burn them (*⌒▽⌒*)θ～

TheUnconqueredSun: No, seriously, _burn them_. Paperwork is a torture vile enough for Naraku

TheUnconqueredSun: Or I can just shove it to Yata or Tsukkomi again…

San: How do you even…

TheUnconqueredSun: Hahaha, it's because nobody wanted the job ;D

TheUnconqueredSun: But joking aside, it'll take me a while to get back to you

San: Thank you

TheUnconqueredSun: No problem! We're all working towards the same goal here (⌒▽⌒)

San: Amaterasu-sama

TheUnconqueredSun: Yes? And it's _Amy_ , remember?

San: Am I worthy?

TheUnconqueredSun: Of what?

San: Family

TheUnconqueredSun: Of course you are, Mairu-chan! And I bet Izaya-kun and Kururi-chan will say the same thing when they get back to normal d=(´▽｀)=b

San: But…

TheUnconqueredSun: What you are does not define you, nor how you are 'born' into this world. It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are

San: …

San: Pokémon

TheUnconqueredSun: Ah, you got me! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Pokemon: The First Movie still has a special place in my heart because of Mewtwo

TheUnconqueredSun: In all seriousness though, I do mean what I said

TheUnconqueredSun: It doesn't matter whether or not you came into this world 'naturally'. I mean, Athena came out of Zeus' _head._ That's clearly not 'normal' (一。一;;）

TheUnconqueredSun: And the same goes for your family. None of them were 'born' normally, and none of them are _actually_ kitsunes even though they look and act like one. It's just easier to explain as if they are one to those who don't know the truth

TheUnconqueredSun: So don't bring yourself down because of _what_ you are, Mairu-chan. You deserve to live and be happy too (o^^o)

San: Limited time

TheUnconqueredSun: That's true for everyone. Given time, even gods will die. All you can do—all _anyone_ can do—is to spend the time we have wisely (*^ω^*)

San: …

San: …

TheUnconqueredSun: Mairu-chan?

San: I…don't…

San: …I don't want to…to…die…

TheUnconqueredSun: Oh, Mairu-chan…

San: But…

San: I want…them to be…

San: I want them to be happy and safe

TheUnconqueredSun: Mairu-chan…

San: For that…anything

San: I'll do anything

San: Even death

TheUnconqueredSun: …

TheUnconqueredSun: I really want to hug you right now, Mairu-chan (੭ ˃̣̣̥ ㅂ˂̣̣̥)੭ु

San: Empress

TheUnconqueredSun: Ah, don't remind me of my duties. Haah…this is why I took up chatting, to relax and unwind and keep up with the latest gossip in the other planes

TheUnconqueredSun: Unlike my brother who's a workaholic…

TheUnconqueredSun: (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

San: …Thank you

TheUnconqueredSun: It's nothing! :D You're my friend, after all

San: Am I?

TheUnconqueredSun: Of course you are! A friend of a friend is my friend. And even if that isn't the case, you're helping my friends, right? That's enough for me! (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

TheUnconqueredSun: Anyway, I'm gonna get back to the chatroom before the others worry

 **\- - -** _ **TheUnconqueredSun has logged out of private messaging mode**_ **\- - -  
**

San: …

San: Perhaps this is why you are the Supreme Ruler of Takamagahara, Amaterasu-sama

 **\- - -CHATROOM- - -  
**

Tiger: Speaking of incidents, weren't there rumours of some guy slashing people in the middle of the night?

Red Sea: Yes, but those reports are infrequent. They happen only once a month or so

Tiger: But it's _consistent_ , and the victims were only slashed, not killed. And there are reports saying that the criminal had glowing red eyes, like a demon

Setton: Scary

Red Sea: They're probably exaggerating, Tiger. Fear does that to people

Tiger: But don't you think it's interesting? What if they really _are_ demons? What if they're secretly building a demon army to take over the world?

Tiger: Oh! I know, I know! Maybe the criminal can possess others by cutting people? And since it only takes once cut to possess someone, that's why the victims are relatively unharmed. Oh! And maybe he's cutting other people to possess _more_ bodies!?

Red Sea: Tiger, you sound like a conspiracy theorist

Tiger: But it's _possible!_

Setton: I don't know…for that to happen, the criminal must have some kind of special ability…

Tiger: Like the Black Rider?

Red Sea: Hmm…it's possible. I've heard stories that the Black Rider can conjure a scythe made of shadows

Tiger: Really? _Awesome!_

Tiger: Hey, hey, maybe the Black Rider _is_ the Slasher

Tiger: They cut people to possess their bodies and build their army, waiting for the right moment to topple the government

Setton: What!? No way!

Tiger: That would be _awesome!_

Red Sea: It's a cool idea for a movie, I agree

Setton: I really don't think the Black Rider is like that

Red Sea: Yeah, hahaha, as cool as it sounds, I don't think so either

Red Sea: I met the Black Rider once

Setton: What!? When!?

Tiger: You did!? Tell me, tell me, tell me!

Red Sea: Hahaha, alright

Red Sea: It was a couple of weeks back. I called her to do a job

Tiger: Her? The Black Rider is a woman?

Red Sea: There's really no way a man can have those curves in that skin-tight suit

Tiger: I never knew…I always watched from a distance

Tiger: How did you call her? What kind of summoning ritual did you use?

Red Sea: A phone call

Tiger: Hahaha, come on, don't joke around

Red Sea: I'm not. I really did call her with a phone

Tiger: Did you use some kind of demon summoning app?

Red Sea: No. Just a phone call

Tiger: I can't believe you can contact an urban legend that easily!

Red Sea: It helps that she's an underground courier

Tiger: Oh? Hmm, now that's more like it!

Tiger: By the way, why did you contact an underground courier, Red-san?

Red Sea: A woman doesn't kiss and tell, Tiger

Setton: A-anyway, you said you met the Black Rider?

Red Sea: Yeah, she seems like a pretty cool woman

Red Sea: I think she's mute, though, since she keeps using her PDA to talk to me

Red Sea: And she wears a yellow cat-like helmet…which doesn't really suit her reputation as an urban legend

Tiger: Is the rumour of her being headless true?

Red Sea: I don't know. I didn't ask her that when we met

Setton: How will you react if it's true?

Tiger: That'll be so _cool!_

Red Sea: I'll be shocked, but I'll get over it. It's not as if I haven't seen my fair share of weird things

Setton: I have to go

San: Why?

Setton: Something came up. I'll see you later

Tiger: See you later, Setton-san!

Red Sea: Bye for now, Setton-kun

TheUnconqueredSun: Chat with you later, Setton-kun

San: Bye

 **\- - -** _ **Setton has left the chatroom**_ **\- - -  
**

San: I have to go

Tiger: Aw, you too?

Red Sea: See you later, San-chan

TheUnconqueredSun: Let's talk again later, San-chan! ^_^

Tiger: Bye for now, San-chan!

 **\- - -** _ **San has left the chatroom**_ **\- - -  
**

* * *

Mairu closed her laptop and left it at her desk.

She turned away from the table, hopping off her chair, and headed to the oversize futon that was hers and Kururi's bed. The night had cast long, dark shadows on their room, but the gentle light of the moon was enough for her to see her 'sister's' fevered expression.

 _(Despite what Tsukumoya and Amaterasu said, can she really be considered their sister? She wasn't like them; she was less_ _ **human**_ _than them, so if the day ever comes where they realise the truth, will they still look at her as they did now? Will they still consider her family?)_

 _(The days in which she wondered this were the days she wished she wasn't on limited time.)_

Kneeling down by her side, she placed a hand upon Kururi's forehead.

"What are you dreaming about?" She murmured, closing her russet eyes and willing dream to come over her 'twin'. Energy _(not hers, not really; borrowed like everything else)_ trickled down her arm, splaying over her fingers and creating an invisible net to ward Kururi's sleep against nightmares _(and memories)_. "Are you remembering what happened then? What happened to our—to _your_ —brother?"

Her hand stilled, before Mairu sighed, brushing back Kururi's bangs with a rueful smile.

"What Iza-nii did after _that?_ "

There was no reply. She didn't expect one anyway.

 _(In truth, she feared the answer.)_

Standing up, she made her way back to the desk, crouching down beside it to reach for the schoolbag she had tossed there when she came home. Inside, hidden behind her books, was a disposable phone she had asked Chieko to buy.

 _("Are you sure about this?" Chieko had asked.)_

 _("Positive." Mairu grinned back.)_

 _(The retainer sighed. "If that's what you wish, Mairu-sama.")_

The seemingly young girl slipped it into her pajama pocket. Then, she stood, this time quietly making her way across the room and towards the door. She slipped out of the bedroom quietly, making her way down to the kitchen.

Once there, she peeked from a corner.

The kitchen was unlit, but the scant few traces of moonlight was enough to reveal her 'brother's' form. Izaya sat by the table, a slice of cake _(dark chocolate, she noted, good choice. One point for Shizuo)_ set out in front of him. It was the same cake Shizuo had given him earlier that day, the same cake he was eating right now.

And Orihara Izaya was _smiling_ as he ate.

It was not the smirks she was accustomed to seeing, nor was it that sharp grin he wore as he taunted others to do his bidding. This smile was different, something that caused the ever-guarded crimson eyes to soften and gentle, something was only to be revealed in private—so much so that Mairu felt the prickles of shame for intruding on this rare moment.

 _(Genuine, and sincere, and_ _ **happy**_ _—everything he once was.)_

Retreating from the kitchen, Mairu pulled out her new phone and typed up a text.

 _[What will you do to save your friend, Shizuo-san?]_

* * *

 **FUN FACTS**

* * *

 _ **1.**_ _'Amy…'_ – Amaterasu's nickname is taken from the game Okami. In that game, Amaterasu is the main protagonist, and takes the shape of a white wolf with crimson markings across her body, a tail shaped like a calligraphy brush and a Divine Instrument floating above her back. She is nicknamed as **Ammako** by Ishaku and later Issun in the original Japanese version of _Ōkami_ [3], or **Ammy** in the localized game _(hence, where the nickname 'Amy' comes from)._

On the legends and mythology surrounding her, Amaterasu Omikami ('the great divinity illuminating heaven') is the sun goddess, the most important deity of the Shinto religion and ruler of _Takamagahara_ (the High Celestial Plain), the domain of the _kami_ or spirits.

Also known as Oho-hir-me-no-muchi or Amaterasu-oho-hiru-me, Amaterasu is the daughter of Izanami and Izanagi who made their daughter ruler of the sky. When her father Izanagi escaped from his visit to the underworld he had to perform a cleansing ritual in the river Woto and it was then, from the god's left eye, that Amaterasu was born. She is also the elder sister of Susanoo (or Susa-no-wo) the storm god. Amaterasu constantly quarrelled with her mischievous younger brother and finally having enough, she exiled him from heaven. (Source: Ancient History Encyclopaedia)

In Japanese art the goddess is most often depicted as a good-natured being often seated back to back with her other brother, Tsukiyomi-no-Mikoto, the moon god. Cocks are associated with her as they herald the rising sun and so too the raven ( _yata garasu_ ) who is believed to be the messenger of the goddess. The Grand Shrine of Ise or Jingu, the most important Shinto shrine in Japan, is dedicated to Amaterasu and the goddess is represented there by one of her other symbols - an octagonal mirror ( _yata kayami_ ). (Source: Ancient History Encyclopaedia)

 **2.** _Takamagahara_ – Translation: _'High Celestial Plains'_. This is the dwelling place of the gods of Japan.

 **3\. '** _One's my apartment manager little brother. He drives a van like crazy'_ – As you guys may have noticed, Tomone is referencing Togusa Saburo. In Durarara SH, it is revealed that his older sister manages the apartment building Yahiro is staying at, and that's how he knows Saburo. The same thing happened here. Since Tomone's parents are working abroad in Nebula, she's living in an apartment alone.

 **4.** ' _Well, six years ago my men reported a suspicious activity…If I remember correctly, Heiwajima Kasuka was kidnapped by them'_ – If you guys remember Chapter 5: _Underneath the Underneath,_ it was mentioned in passing that Kasuka was kidnapped when Shizuo was 10 years old. That's also when their mother returned to the underworld in order to find Kasuka.

 **5.** _Naraku_ – Also called **Naraka** (Sanskrit; Pali: **Niraya** ) is a term in Buddhist cosmology usually referred to in English as "hell", "hell realm", or "purgatory". Lol, so Amaterasu is basically saying that paperwork is a torture fit for hell.

 **6.** _'_ _Or I can just shove it to_ _Yata or Tsukkomi_ _again…'_ – LOL, highly irresponsible goddess much? Hahaha, anyway, Yata is Yatagarasu, the three-legged crow that serves Amaterasu. Meanwhile, Tsukkomi is Tsukuyomi, her brother and co-ruler. It also means the straight man in a comedy duo. Lol, so she's basically saying that her brother is the straight man to her 'boke' or funny/simple-minded guy.

 **7.** ' _What you are does not define you, nor how you are 'born' into this world._ _It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are_ _'_ – Like Mairu said, it's a Pokemon quote. Sort of. The actual quote was: _"I see now that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant; it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."_ From Mewtwo in Pokemon: The First Movie. Man, and people say that anime movies can't be deep!

 _(Also, lol, Amaterasu—the Goddesss of the Sun and Empress of the Japanese Pantheon—is a freaking Pokémon fan who keeps sprinkling her chats with emoticons and ditches paperwork. LOL)_

 **8.** ' _Did you use some kind of demon summoning app?_ _'_ – This is a reference to the Devil Survivor games, where you can summon demons from a phone app to survive the apocalypse. Also, in episode 31 of the second season, Togusa asks what is going on because of the mess happening on the Dollars message board. Walker responds that they will finally see the advent of the demon city Ikebukuro, that a demon-summoning app will be installed on his phone and their survival life will then begin. And ends the scene with a "Let's survive!", arc words of the game and the anime _(of Devil Survivor 2)_. Even better because the game itself had a cameo from Durarara characters _(due to having the same designer)_ with Celty, Shizuo using his trademark pole as a weapon, and Izaya in it... in Japan _(T^T. I waaaanttt (_ ੭ _˃̣̣̥_ _ㅂ_ _˂̣̣̥)_ ੭ु _)_. So it's a cross-reference between works.


	22. The Beginnings of an Informant

_The threads we weave begins to tangle,_

 _You, me, everyone,_

 _How far am I willing to go for you?_

 _How much am I willing to give for you?_

 _Love may be blind, but friendship closes its eyes._

* * *

Chapter 14: The Beginnings of an Informant

* * *

 _[What will you do to save your friend, Shizuo-san?]_

The question taunted him, black words blinking against a white screen. It took him several tries to truly capture the text—amber eyes bleary and heavy with sleep—but when he _did_ , Shizuo shot up immediately, sitting on his futon and gripping his phone so tightly, it began to creaked suspiciously. With the curtains drawn over the window, his room was dark, but the light of small screen was enough to reveal his frown.

 _[What do you mean?]_ He asked, suspicion blooming in his mind even as his heart thrummed fast and loud. _[Who the fuck are you? How did you get this number?]_

It didn't even take a minute for the mysterious texter to reply. _[How rude, Shizuo-san. And towards someone who can help too. Don't you know that your friend, Orihara Izaya-san, is in danger?]_

 _[What!?]_ Unfamiliar fear trilled down his spine, and Shizuo pulled up his knees, almost curling over them. _[What do you mean?]_

 _(He was used to fearing himself, fearing how other's view him and fearing that one day he would hurt those dear to him. He was used to being afraid for others who were close to his strength, afraid for them because he feared he could break them. But being afraid for others because of some outside force? That was rare, and he didn't know how to deal with it.)_

 _[Exactly what I meant.]_ The mysterious texter replied. _[Izaya-san is in danger.]_

Ice flooded down his veins, freezing shock spreading from his chest as the knowledge itself settled deep in his bones. Shakily, he typed a reply, still unable to believe what he had read.

 _(But it was possible. He knew that it was possible. Izaya was a walking talking troublemaker. It wasn't a stretch to imagine someone would one day be fed up of his attitude and would…)_

 _(And would…)_

 _(He didn't want to imagine it.)_

 _[How is he in danger?]_ He asked. _[How do you know this? Who are you? Why are you telling me this instead of the police?]_

 _[So many questions.]_ Shizuo could practically imagine the other purred, taunting him with their anonymity. _[I have my sources. As for who I am, that's information I can't disclose. And why you, of all people? Well, that's simple, this isn't the kind of danger you can talk about to police and you're his friend, right?]_

 _[Aren't you?]_

 _[Of course I am!]_ The blond snapped back, worry feeding into his anger _[Who the fuck are you? If you don't tell me who you are, how can I know you're not making shit up?]_

 _[Is Izaya-san the type to avoid trouble?]_ The other asked rhetorically. _[No. He's the kind to revel in it, to kick and stir them up. Surely you must have imagined this sort of thing to happen to him once.]_

 _[That's not important.]_ Shizuo countered. _[How can I trust someone whom I never met?]_

 _[I see that it's hard to earn your trust.]_ The anonymous texter replied. _[Very well then. The next time you see Izaya-san at school, try following him after school. Don't let him see you though! There will be a few gang members dressed in blue who will approach him. Watch their interaction.]_

 _[Blue?]_ A chill of premonition settled down his chest, spreading cold throughout his torso. _[Don't tell me…]_

 _[That's right.]_ The other confirmed. _[The Blue Squares are targeting him.]_

And that had been that. No matter how much he texted them, the mysterious texter refused to reply anymore. Questions ran amok in his mind _(how did this happen? What did he do?)_ , fuelled by his increasing worry at the other's continued silence. Eventually, he determined that he wouldn't get any answers, and tried to settle himself down to sleep.

It was a futile effort.

* * *

It was a couple of days before Izaya told him that Kururi's fever went down and he could return to school. During that time, Shizuo was fretting with worry, his temper spiking up at the merest mention of anything related to gangs and Izaya. Shinra, who looked more amused than worried, asked him if Izaya had returned back to sending gangs after gangs at him, to which he replied _no_. Izaya, who had heard of this from Shinra, had smirked when he visited and asked which gang was dumb enough to rile him up.

Shizuo didn't dare say it was the Blue Squares.

It wasn't that he was afraid of the Blue Squares, per say. No, he knew perfectly well that they were simply a bunch of teens like him who liked to cause trouble and would run away crying at the merest mention of him. It was _Izaya_ that he was afraid of. What would Izaya do if he said that the Blue Squares was targeting him? In front of him, Shizuo knew that Izaya would laugh it off and dismiss his worries, but what about when he wasn't around? Izaya was the type of person who liked to poke and prod at wounds until it would scab over instead of healing, and he wouldn't run away if he heard that some gang was after him. Most likely, he would find it fascinating and proceed to watch them drew closer to him, like moths to a flame—except Shizuo wasn't sure whether Izaya was the flame or the moth.

Would he tell Shizuo if he was in trouble?

Not very likely.

And so Shizuo remained silent about what he knew and the things the mysterious texter told him on the night of Izaya's birthday. Telling the truth wouldn't do either of them any good when Izaya was more likely to dismiss his concerns than take it into careful consideration. Worse, he may even actively _push him away_ , because wasn't that what Izaya would do—run away from the important things and face dangers alone?

If Izaya could keep secrets, then so could Shizuo.

* * *

The first thing Izaya noticed when they meet up in their usual junction was the bags under his eyes. The brunet teased him about it, but Shizuo was now adept enough at reading the furrows of his brows and the quirks of his lips to tell what he was _really_ saying _(half of the things he said were meaningless, and half of that meant something else, and half of_ _ **that**_ _meant the opposite of what he actually said)_. This morning, Izaya had said, lips twisting into an infuriating smirk, "You look _terrible_ today. Did you roll off the wrong side of the bed? Wait, do monsters even _have_ beds?"

Shizuo knew, however, that in Izaya-speak he meant:

 _"You look terrible. What happened? Are you alright?"_

And that— _that_ made Shizuo felt guilty. Ashamed. If the texts were right, then _Izaya_ was the one in danger, not him. And yet here he was, worrying about _him_ in his own weird way. A weight settled heavily in his chest—he should've been a better friend.

He _would_ be a better friend.

That was why he replied with: "Shut up louse. I'm _fine._ And of _course_ I have a bed—well, futon, but what's the difference? _God,_ why are you always so annoying?"

 _"I'm fine,"_ was what he had meant, _"So it's alright to stop worrying, okay?"_

The crease between the other's brows eased, but only marginally. His grin still held a tint of fakeness. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps the same reason you're a monster? I was born that way."

He scoffed in reply. "I won't be surprised if that's the case."

 _(Monster—Izaya called him. That was what Izaya_ _ **always**_ _said when referring to him. To anyone else, he would have bristled, hackles raised and ready to lash out. With Izaya though, it was more of a persistent, negligible annoyance.)_

 _(Perhaps it was because Izaya used the word so much that it lost its meaning. Perhaps it was because Izaya was like him—a lonely, solitary monster among men—that it didn't sting as much. Perhaps it was because they were friends, and friends called each other names all the time as forms of endearment.)_

 _(Tom and Shinra had never called him monster, though.)_

 _(Perhaps it was because Izaya was Izaya, and that was all there was to it.)_

That had been that. The matter was dropped in favour for their typical banter and chat _(or rather, Izaya spouting off some nonsense about humans and Shizuo half-listening)_. Still, he would occasionally catch a glimpse of worry across Izaya's features, his lips pursed into a thin line and brows slightly scrunched up in confusion whenever he thought that Shizuo wasn't looking.

Orihara Izaya was too sharp for his own good.

Thankfully, Izaya didn't seem to suspect anything. If anything, Shizuo had the gnawing feeling that he was up to no good _(no thanks to the texts)_. It was there when Izaya looked away from their conversations, flicked open his phone, and typed a text to who-knows-who. It was there when his phone vibrated, notifying the brunet of a message, and the self-satisfied gleam in his crimson eyes as he read it. It was there when Izaya turned to a different direction on their way home, saying that he had something to do and bidding farewell.

Shizuo was tempted to drag him kicking and screaming home.

But he didn't. He didn't warn of the Blue Squares, of the probable danger he was in. He didn't even know if the anonymous texter was telling the truth, and if they were lying, he didn't want to give any false alarms. Instead, he stood there and watched as Izaya took a turn and disappeared off a corner, blending easily with the afternoon crowd. Watching him going off to his shady business, Shizuo sighed and tilted his head up to drink in the blue sky.

 _And today's such a nice day too…_

Then, he opened his phone and reread the texts he received.

"No other choice then," he grumbled, pocketing his phone and adjusting the strap of his backpack.

 _You better appreciate this, louse._

Shizuo ran to the nearest building, dashed up its wall, and took to the rooftop.

* * *

Humans rarely looked above them.

That was what Izaya had said, during one of his usual speeches about humanity. Shizuo supposed there was some truth in that—for once—because people rarely bothered him when he was on rooftops. Maybe it was because they have enough problems weighting their minds, bowing their heads and pulling their gazes to the ground. Maybe it was because they took the blue sky for granted, thinking that since it was always _there_ then there would always be time to enjoy it later. Who knows, who cares. Right now, Shizuo was just grateful that no one noticed him as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, doing his best to keep Izaya's mop of black hair within sight.

He stopped when a group of men stepped out of an alley and approached his friend.

They were all wearing blue—that was the first thing Shizuo noticed—just as the anonymous texter had said. _Blue Squares,_ he thought as he watched the men circled Izaya with trepidation. To the brunet's credit, he didn't look afraid—then again, he wasn't even fazed when _Shizuo_ chased him, throwing furniture all the while—but the blond could tell that he was wary. It was there in the slight tenseness of his shoulders, in the way those crimson eyes flicked to and fro, looking for an escape route. Izaya wasn't afraid, but he was surprised, and that wasn't good at all.

From this high up, Shizuo couldn't hear the words being spoken. All he could see was Izaya smirking as one of the men approached him, his mouth opening to make use of that silvertongue. The wave of crowd parted around them, people moving towards their destination without a glance at them, ignoring Izaya and the men in blue surrounding him as if they were part of the scenery. It was _almost_ enough to make Shizuo mad.

 _("Desensitisation, diffusion of responsibility, pluralistic ignorance, the bystander effect…" Izaya had rattled off a list of terms Shizuo didn't understand, grinning that wicked smile of his as he asked, "Why do you think people are so_ _ **'good'**_ _alone but so apathetic in groups?")_

Then, the men began to push Izaya into the alley.

His vision was swimming in red, his tenuous grip on his self-control threatening to slip from his hands, but Shizuo held on. Maybe, _maybe_ it wasn't what he thought. Maybe the texter was wrong. Maybe Izaya could talk his way out of this and he wouldn't have to resort to the violence he hated so much.

One of the men punched Izaya, and Shizuo's sight was drowned in red.

Before he realised it, he had leapt down from the rooftop, the ground cracking under his sudden drop. Izaya, bowed over in pain, didn't notice, but the men _did._ They spun in place, faces slack with shock, and one of them failed to react in time to dodge a thrown industrial trashcan. Shizuo didn't waste time to watch their surprise turn to horror as they realised who they were facing with. He punched one of them, sending him soaring through the air before crashing into a nearby dumpster.

As realisation settled in, fear appeared in the remaining men's eyes. Some of them ran, scattering into the crowd in blind panic, while a few others reacted rashly in fear. One of them swung a metal bat, but Shizuo caught it with a hand and crushed it, swinging it over his shoulder to throw the man face first into another attacker. The rest vainly tried to attack him with their fists, but he easily deflected their blows and punched back, bones cracking under his fists as the men were sent crashing into walls and asphalt.

It was over within minutes.

Shizuo _breathed_ , scowling down at the unconscious men at his feet and clenching his fists at the leftover adrenaline still thrumming in his veins. The red haze of his rage dissipated with every blink, but it lingered on the edges of his vision. Back to Izaya, Shizuo was afraid to turn and face him.

"Shizu-chan," He heard his friend called out; and due to the thrumming in his ears, Shizuo couldn't discern what emotion laced it. When he gave no response, Izaya repeated, _"Shizu-chan."_

Flinching, Shizuo slowly turned to face him.

Relief flooded through him when he saw no hint of fear in his friend's crimson eyes.

 _(After all this time, it may seemed silly to think that Izaya would leave him after such display of strength and violence, but he could never tell. Izaya was unpredictable that way, reacting strangely to the oddest things. Shizuo couldn't_ _ **read**_ _him, and it was both a source of constant frustration and worry.)_

Izaya surveyed the battlefield with an air of a tactician—calmly, objectively, logically; and did not appear as if he had just been punched. If it wasn't for the wound on his head, the black bruise around his eye, Shizuo might have been fooled by the façade. As it was, he wondered if he should take him to Shinra's.

"Are you alright?" He asked, drawing Izaya's attention back to him. "That looks nasty. Should we see Shinra to get it looked at?"

The brunet blinked, raising a hand to trace the edges of the wound, as if he had just remembered that he was hurt. "I'm fine," he replied, lowering his hand, tone slightly distracted. He looked at him—and there was an odd look Shizuo couldn't place as he did so—saying, "There were seven of them."

The blond shrugged; more concerned about Izaya's bruise than the number of people he fought. "So? Are you sure you're ok?"

Izaya gave him a look, "You beat them all in a minute."

Again, he shrugged. "It's nothing I haven't handled before. 'Sides, you used to send a lot more after me, remember?"

"Yeah…" The brunet replied oddly, tone strangely flat and absent of the usual lilting cadence. He shook his head, peering at him from the corners of his eyes. "You really are a monster."

His usual temper did not rise at the derogatory word.

 _(Perhaps Izaya earned the right to call him 'monster' by virtue of being Izaya.)_

Instead of anger, all Shizuo felt was worry.

Because the delivery was off—there wasn't the teasing lilt in his tone, nor the accompanying infuriating smirk. Instead, his tone was flat, devoid of the usual high-pitch cackle lurking underneath each usual disparaging comment. It was as if Izaya had suddenly received an epiphany, and Shizuo feared what he had realised.

 _Was it too much? Should I have not shown my strength? Does he now realise what he's dealing with?_

 _But that doesn't make sense. Izaya knows of my strength from the start. Hell, he's seen it first-hand! He used to rile me up for it!_

 _So what could have stunned him now?_

Before he could find the words to voice his confusion, Izaya turned away, hand briefly touching the wound on his head. "You know," he intoned, not quite looking at him. "I think I _am_ going to see Shinra. What about you, Shizu-chan?"

A frown weighed his lips as he followed him. "One, stop calling me that," Shizuo said, which Izaya blatantly ignored, "Two, I'm coming with you, of course. Who knows if you'll even make it there in one piece."

"Right," Izaya laughed, and there was the familiar edge of mocking that really shouldn't have made him relieved but _did._ "I'm now so helpless as to need a bodyguard."

"I don't think you're helpless," Shizuo replied, falling into step beside him as they exited the alley. The chases, the fearlessness, that switchblade coming down to slash his chest— _No,_ Shizuo didn't think his friend was helpless at all. "I'm _worried_ , that's all. You're a walking talking troublemaker, Izaya-kun. I won't be surprised at all if someone decides to stab you in broad daylight.

The blond scowled, amber gaze sliding down to reproach his friend, "Besides, you have gangs after you now. Of course I worry."

"Oh?" Izaya glanced sideways, turning his head partially to look at him. That too-pleasant tone and quirked eyebrow did not bode well for Shizuo. "And how do you know that?"

Shit, Izaya really _was_ too sharp for his own good. Briefly, he considered about confessing, to tell the truth about the texts he had received and their warnings. He knew, however, that it wouldn't solve anything. Izaya would still stick to his shady business, no doubt drawing attention from a multitude of dangerous people. The only difference would be that the brunet would be on the lookout for this mysterious texter, and he might also possibly push Shizuo away after he realised that he had stalked him.

But he couldn't _lie_ —he wasn't a trained wordsmith like Izaya, and it would only serve to make the brunet more suspicious of him.

And so, Shizuo opted for a half-truth.

"Well, it makes sense, right?" Shizuo answered, opting for a shrug to hide away his discomfort. "Those guys were wearing blue. So it makes sense to think that the Blue Squares are after you."

He hoped Izaya wouldn't push any further and take the lie, however half-baked it was. If he pushed, if he asked the reason for him conveniently being there—then Shizuo didn't know how to respond at all. Under that sharp, crimson gaze the truth was bound to spill out if his friend asked.

Fortunately, he didn't. An odd look crossed Izaya's face, before swiftly being hidden away by his usual mask. Shizuo would have been concerned if it wasn't followed by a nod from the brunet. As it was, all the blond felt was relief that he hadn't been caught.

"Is that so…?" Izaya murmured, more to himself than at him. He turned away with no further words, steps sure and confident despite the blooming bruise on his face. With his height advantage, it was easy for Shizuo to catch up to him in a few long strides, falling in step next to his friend as he carefully eyed the other's movements for any flickers of pain.

They were halfway to Shinra's when Izaya's crimson gaze slid sideways, eyeing him from the corners of his eyes. He didn't stop walking as he remarked. "It's quite convenient that you were there when they attacked me."

Shizuo's next step fell on air, his body tilting a little too forward as his mind processed his friend's words. Reflexes honed from years of fighting saved him from further stumbling, but it wasn't enough to stop the spread of surprise originating from his chest, constricting his lungs and preventing him from giving air to words he would have said. The slide of Izaya's gaze would have suggested minimal attention, but to Shizuo, he could tell that there was dark weight behind his airy words.

The implications were clear: _Why were you there when you should have been heading home?_

"Well," Shizuo attempted, striving for as much normalcy as possible. In his pockets, his palms were sweaty. "You're my friend, so of course I'll help you."

It was an evasion attempt at best, but if Izaya could lie as easily as he breathed, then Shizuo should at least be allowed this.

* * *

 _[You're right]_ Shizuo texted later that night, hidden in the safety of his own room and sitting on his futon. The lights were switched off and the curtains were drawn, so there was only the glow of his phone's screen to illuminate the darkness. _[The Blue Squares did attacked Izaya.]_

 _[I assumed you took care of them?]_

 _[Yeah]_ He replied, frowning down at his phone. It still irked him, seeing as the other still refused to tell him their name, but when he thought back to Izaya being pushed into that alley, of the men surrounding him…his hand clenched the phone so tightly it almost cracked. _[I guess you were right. What should I do to protect him?]_

 _[I take it you trust me now?]_

 _[No. You still haven't told me your name at least.]_ Shizuo answered, gripping the sheets as he texted. _[But I don't know what to do. If I go and tell him what I know, he'll just dismiss it and keep doing this. Worst case scenario, he'll push me away.]_

 _[And so your only option is me.]_

Was it him, or was there some smugness there? Was the texter taunting him for his inability to do anything, for being forced to turn to them? Shizuo couldn't tell, and his rage burned hotly in his chest.

The only reason there was no violence was because the target of his ire was unknown.

 _[Enough]_ He typed, hoping the growl in his throat could somehow transfer to the words on the screen. _[What should I do?]_

 _[Well,]_ Shizuo could practically imagine the other purred, _[what do you know of the Jyan Jyaka Jyan?]_

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

First up, I'm real sorry it took me so long to update this! I've been quite busy lately, but hopefully things will settle down now. I'll try to re-establish a regular update schedule again.

In other news, I'm currently in Japan! ^_^ I'm so happy to be here…I got a bunch of light novels and manga to read, and I'm currently taking Japanese classes too. Hahaha…who knows, maybe I'll be proficient in reading them by the end of my break. If I am…well, I bought the _Orihara Izaya to Yuuyake wo_ light novel, do you want me to translate it? _(If, and only_ _ **if**_ _, I'll be able to attain the skills needed to read it…)_

Oh, and I saw a pair of cosplayers dressed up as Izaya and Shizuo in Ikebukuro the other day! Aaaah, I'm really happy to see them! :D Though I was too shy to approach them, hahaha….

On to the story related stuff…Things are stirring up! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ If you guys remember from the previous chapters, Izaya was looking to partner up with the Blue Squares and stir the tension up between them and the Jyan Jyaka Jyan. But here's Mairu, pulling some strings of her own and entangling Shizuo into something involving the Jyan Jyaka Jyan….Hahaha, if you guys read the title of this chapter, I think you can guess what role Shizuo will take soon. Ah, this is going to be fun! Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ


	23. The World Begins to Move

_Here and now the river flows_

 _Endlessly, forever rushing towards an unknown sea_

 _You and I, we are caught in the tide_

 _As we go unceasingly towards that distant shore_

 _Shall we swim together or prey on each other?_

* * *

Chapter 15: The World Begins to Move

* * *

Shizuo doesn't know the first thing about information gathering.

The movies made it look so easy. Go to someone, ask around, and if no one talks, then shake them up a bit. The detectives he liked to watch made the process seemed so clear-cut. Years of experience and support from the cops gave them the advantage of knowledge and resources which he lacked. As it was, Shizuo didn't know where to even _begin_.

Who should he ask? Where should he go to? What questions must be answered?

The texter had tried to be a little bit helpful by suggesting, to his surprise, Isana Chieko. Shizuo was sceptical though, not because he didn't believe the mild lady was a reliable information source _(Izaya used her, after all)_ , but because it was the texter who recommended her. He knew Isana Chieko seemed to be a kind lady, but he couldn't help the niggling doubt gnawing his mind, a whispering thought of: _What if Isana-san is working with this texter?_

 _What if she tells Izaya about my involvement?_

The thought left a sour taste in the back of his mouth. He wasn't used to second-guessing things, and certainly didn't like to doubt the people he cared and respected, but it felt prudent to do so in this case. With his friend caught in some unknowable danger and with the unanswered questions still surrounding his texter, Shizuo couldn't even begin to puzzle out how many plots were entangled in this intricate web. Izaya was obviously one of the players, and the texter seemed to be making moves behind the shadows, but the Blue Squares, too, were a faction he needed to contend with, and between those three was Shizuo, who only wanted his friend to be safe but had no idea how to do so.

And then there was the Jyan Jyaka Jyan.

 _[What do you know about the Jyan Jyaka Jyan?]_

 _Not enough, apparently._

Shizuo knew of them in passing. A few of them sometimes dumbly challenged him, but they were rare, as it seemed that the Jyan Jyaka Jyan was mostly comprised of adults. From the occasional stories his mother told him though—as jokes during dinner or a way to pass the time doing whilst doing chores—said gang was filled with hotheaded members and a large territory. The only reason few of them bothered Shizuo at all was because most of them had better things to do than messing around with a high school kid.

 _(His reputation preceded him, too. Very few gang leaders—old or new—wanted to provoke the Monster of Ikebukuro's wrath.)_

 _[The Blue Squares recently provoked the Jyan Jyaka Jyan]_ the texter had explained. _[There's mounting tension between those two, and Izaya-san seeks to prod the flames into an inferno.]_

That sounded like Izaya, alright. No wonder the Blue Squares were targeting him.

 _[I'll just beat them up if they do anything.]_ He had replied.

 _[But will you be there to save him all the time?]_ the other had questioned. _[Could you be his bodyguard 24/7? No. That is impossible for anyone. The only thing you can do is minimise the possibility, and to do so you need to manipulate the flow of information. Stay several steps ahead of the other players. Your brute strength is meaningless in this situation.]_

And that knowledge hurts, in a way. To have someone else point out the uselessness of his unwanted power, to have them dismiss it so casually as if Shizuo hasn't struggled with it all his life. It hurts a bit, to know that the one thing he's good for was useless in this situation.

And so it all came down to this, leaving him with no choice but to face his mother and ask her the steps he needed to enter the world she did not want him to join.

 _[If you want to help Izaya-san, don't be a bodyguard.]_ the words echoed in his mind hours after he read them in the dim backlit glow of his phone's screen, as Shizuo opened his mouth and began to form the words to ask, _[You need to be an—]_

"Mom," he asked, "how do I become an informant?"

* * *

It wasn't a question she would have expected from her son.

 _Then again,_ Namiko mused, watching her son fidgeting by the doorway to the kitchen, _Shizu-chan is always surprising me._

Whether it was her unplanned pregnancy, the unexpected joy his equally unexpected birth gave her, or the sudden appearance of his super strength, Heiwajima Shizuo—her beloved son—was always unpredictable to her.

Not that Namiko minded though.

 _(Just as she never minded his bouts of rage and the ensuing destruction. Just as she never minded Kasuka's stoicness bordering on extreme apathy.)_

 _(She was their mother, and they were her children, and Namiko was always adept at reading people.)_

"Informant, hmm?" She lightly hummed, carefully flipping the eggs for dinner. Her gaze was directed at the pan due to the necessity of cooking, but she paid close attention to his reply. "Why do you want to be one, Shizu-chan?"

There was a stretch of silence broken only by the low sizzling of the pan before—perhaps relieved that she hadn't dismissed the idea immediately—Shizuo stepped closer. From the corner of her eyes, she saw him worrying the hem of his shirt, an endearing little nervous trait he had inherited from his father.

 _(He wasn't his father, exactly. At least, not biologically, but Kichirou had always treated him as if he was one of his own, and it had always made Namiko fell a little more in love with him each time she saw them interact.)_

 _(On all accounts that mattered, Heiwajima Shizuo was as much as Kichirou's son as he was hers.)_

"My friend's in trouble," he finally said, in the length of time it took for her eggs to finish frying. She turned off the stove to face him as he continued. "He's being targeted by a gang, but even if I tell him that he won't back off. I don't want him to get hurt though, and I can't always be with him every day. And even if I beat up the gang, it won't really stop them. They'll just think up of ways to avoid me. So I need to be something that can prevent my friend from getting hurt in the first place."

"And so you wish to become an informant." It wasn't a question, but it wasn't a judgement either. Namiko made sure to keep her voice neutral and reasonable, like she read in all those parenting books and websites back when she was still an undergraduate student struggling with an underground job, unplanned pregnancy, and unsupportive parents.

 _(She swore on the day her son was born that she won't be like_ _ **them**_ _, like her parents who abandoned her when they heard that she was pregnant.)_

 _(And she hadn't, and that more than anything—more than her days as a gang leader or an assassin—made Namiko proud.)_

"Information is power." Her son said, lifting his head to look at her. For a moment, under the artificial light of the kitchen, his amber eyes glinted and Namiko was suddenly reminded of _him_. "Isn't that what you said, Mom?"

 _(His biological father—the man who seemed more like an ethereal supernatural creature in her memories than human. Theirs was an affair that went fast and hot and bright like a firework, ending with a one-night stand and his complete disappearance from her life. That was until a couple of months passed and she realised that he had left a parting gift inside her.)_

"Ah," she smiled, "I did say something like that."

There was bright hope behind her son's amber eyes _(like hers, like_ _ **his**_ _)_ , the corners of his mouth lifting up into an uncertain smile. "So…?"

Namiko wanted to say _'No'_. Wanted to say, _'It's not safe. That's not the life I wanted for you,'_ and _'I don't want you to get hurt, even if it's for a friend. You're more important than some boy'._ She wanted to say, _'Your father and I stepped out of that world so that you and your brother may live a peaceful life without worrying about gangs and yakuza and assassins'._

But—

Heiwajima Namiko was a mother, and she knew her sons better than anyone.

Even if she denied him, spurred him away from the idea, Shizuo would still find some way to do it. Once he set his mind onto something there was no deterring him, and sometimes, she despaired over his open heart—so easily hurt, so easily read. If she denied him, her son would find other ways to be an informant, and what would happen then if he made a mistake and got himself hurt? As strong as Shizuo was there were many ways to break a person, and Namiko knew a lot of them from first-hand experience.

There was really nothing else she could say except:

"Of course I'll help you." Namiko smiled, reaching out to ruffle his blond hair. God, he was already taller than her. Her son was growing up so fast. "We'll have your first lesson tonight, after dinner."

 _This Orihara Izaya better be worth it._

Shizuo beamed, her son's smile so bright, she likened it to the sun. He ducked his head in faint embarrassment of her ruffling, but she could tell he was pleased. The tension he carried across his shoulders since he entered the kitchen melted away in the warmth of the moment.

"Go get your brother." She told him, giving him a smile as she moved to plate the eggs. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

Her son nodded, still smiling as he went out of the kitchen.

Alone, Namiko's smile dimmed, but lingered still on the corners of her lips.

That stubbornness, that determination—

Those were traits he had definitely inherited from her.

* * *

Izaya was suspicious.

He had been so since the attack of those so-called 'Blue Squares' members. He had never given his real name to Izumii, only an alias— _Psyche_ —and so the Blue Squares shouldn't have known his true identity. A quick text to Izumii, asking in a roundabout manner if he had given any orders to attack Izaya, validated his suspicions. Izumii hadn't ordered any attacks recently, and Izaya would've known if he lied, and so that meant one thing: the 'Blue Squares' who attacked him were fakes.

On one hand, that was good. It meant that Izumii hadn't found out his true identity and their partnership could proceed as planned. On the other hand, it also meant that someone knew of his plans and deliberately taunted him by sending him false Blue Squares members.

And then there was the matter of Shizuo.

How had he known of the attack?

 _(There was something burning in him when he saw his…friend…leapt down to his defence. A rush of emotion so sudden and hard like a riptide that left Izaya breathless, speechless once again as he beheld a monster's strength. Only this time that monstrous power was turned to protect him, and Izaya couldn't name the depth of emotion that overcame him if he even dared to face it.)_

It was all too convenient, too coincidental to be anything _but_ planned. Shizuo may be unpredictable, but there was a certain kind of routine even he adhered to. Those men who attacked him wouldn't have threatened him and dragged him into that alley if they saw the Monster of Ikebukuro at his side, after all. No, there was someone else pulling the strings, and for once it wasn't Izaya.

"How interesting!" Izaya laughed out loud, leaning back against his chair, feet propped up on his desk in the sanctity of his bedroom. He grinned up at the cold moon outside his window. "How _fun_!"

 _A game wouldn't be a game without players, after all._

His gaze slid down from the moon above to the report laying innocently next to his feet. The report compiled by Isana Chieko.

There was no proof that she was involved, save for the fact that she knew he was planning something with the Blue Squares and Jyan Jyaka Jyan, but still…on the off chance that she _was_ …

The brunet smirked. "So you're playing now? I suppose it's about time you made your move."

His gaze then moved to the phone at the edge of his desk. Grinning, he reached up and took it, flipping it open and typing a text to a certain eccentric schoolmate he had been keeping his eye on.

 _I have pawns of my own too, Isana-san._

 _[Hirabayashi Tomone,]_ Izaya typed, _[what do you say about some fun?]_

* * *

Admittedly, Tomone _was_ suspicious of the text, but that suspicion was not followed by its natural wariness. Instead, the supernatural-lover felt only curiosity, and a slowly stirring sense of excitement.

Having taken a shower before she saw the screen of her phone lighting up, the brunette sat on her bed in her blue pajamas, a white towel slung over her shoulder. She glanced at the unknown number, and the equally ambiguous text, and smiled.

It was a smile so fearless that it was both frightening and worrying.

 _[Who's this?]_ She texted back. _[And what kind of fun do you have in mind?]_

The reply she received was slightly clearer, but no less mysterious. To anyone else, it would have been frustrating, worthy of blocking the texter. Tomone, however, only smiled wider.

 _[I go by Psyche]_ the other replied. _'Go by',_ she noted, and not _'I am'_. Lying was always easier when one wasn't really lying. Her interest increased. _[I know that you crave adventure. You'll do anything to escape the mundane, boring everyday life. I can give you what you want.]_

 _Interesting!_

Absentmindedly, she dried her hair before tossing the towel onto a nearby chair. Plopping down on her bed, she lifted her phone over her face and stared at the screen. Her fingers were trembling, but it was with the beginnings of the drug called 'thrill' that she was addicted to.

 _To know this information, he or she must have known me somehow._

A puzzle, Tomone thought. A simple little exciting conundrum as an appetizer before the main dish. _Oh,_ how fun!

 _(She was always good at solving puzzles.)_

 _I have a reputation as a weird and eccentric girl, but only at school. Outside of it, nobody really knows me. And who would recruit a high school girl for something potentially dangerous? No sane adult, that's certain._

The pieces aligned, forming a picture of a certain strange teen she had been keeping her eye on.

 _[Are you a Raijin student like me, by any chance?]_

The other's reply was a few seconds too long. Tomone grinned.

 _[I'm offering a chance for you to be part of a gang war]_ the texter replied, and in his _(and Tomone was_ _ **sure**_ _it was a_ _ **him**_ _)_ avoidance, he failed to offer a rejection. Whether that was an accident or an intentional move of a chessmaster with his pawn was unclear. _[Are you interested?]_

There were plenty of rumours in Raijin, and many of them were about the gangs ruling the city. Many boys had been implicated in the rumours—a few of them even openly showing their allegiances—but there was one boy that stood above the rest. Tomone would have dismissed him—she wasn't interested in humans, after all—except she wasn't sure if he even _was_ human.

 _(Red eyes and sharp, sharp smirk.)_

But just as she wasn't sure if he was human, she was equally unsure if he _was_ a monster. Unlike Shizuo and the Black Biker, there was nothing overtly different about him. He was smart, yes, but Tomone was smart too, and she could easily list off several other smart classmates. He didn't show any incredible strength or supernatural abilities, but there was something undeniably _off_ about him. Perhaps it was those unnatural red eyes, or the way he acted as if he stood above humanity, or maybe even the seemingly permanent smiles pasted on his face that never touched his eyes. It was hard to tell, and until she could, Tomone was hesitant to place him in the same category as monsters or humans.

This could be her chance to finally find out.

 _[Alright, I'll be your pawn.]_

The benefit of being a pawn was that she could act first, and be on the front lines _(front row seats to the drama. How exciting!)_. And if played well, the pawn could even become a queen.

 _[Very well then.]_ was the texter's simple answer.

Tomone grinned, thrill and excitement fizzing warmly in her veins. She rolled to her side, created a new contact for this number, and typed a text:

 _[Orihara-kun, are you human or are you a monster?]_

There. Her first move as a pawn.

As expected, Izaya did not reply. Was he surprised that she found out so quickly, or had he suspect it when she asked about Raijin? No matter. She smiled again before sending a single text and switching off her phone for the night, setting it on her bedside table.

 _[I can't wait to find out. Let's have fun until then, ne?]_

Tonight, Tomone dreamt of fireworks.

 _(Bright and ephemeral and_ _ **explosive**_ _.)_

 _(Perhaps this would finally give her a reason to live.)_

* * *

 **FUN FACTS**

* * *

 _\- Heiwajima Kichirou_ – The canonical name of Shizuo's father

\- '… _when she was still an undergraduate student struggling with an underground job, unplanned pregnancy, and unsupportive parents.'_ –Ouch, poor Namiko…as implied in Another Side, Another Story 2, she doesn't get along well with her parents, which was why she struggled by herself during pregnancy.

\- ' _His biological father—the man who seemed more like an ethereal supernatural creature in her memories than human...'_ –Oooh, O.O Now what's this supposed to mean? Hehehe, well, I already dropped some pretty clear hints, so you guys try to guess ;)

\- ' _Only this time that monstrous power was turned to protect him, and Izaya couldn't name the depth of emotion that overcame him if he even dared to face it.'_ – Izaya, please, you're in so, _so_ deep.

\- ' _Her fingers were trembling, but it was with the beginnings of the drug called 'thrill' that she was addicted to.'_ – An adrenaline junkie like Izaya, but on a whole other scale -_-"

\- ' _Whether that was an accident or an intentional move of a chessmaster with his pawn was unclear.'_ – It's not mentioned here, but Izaya was pretty surprised that she caught on so quickly. Then he became interested, and intentionally did not deny it to see what she would do.

\- '… _Tomone was hesitant to place him in the same category as monsters or humans.'_ – LOL. Do you guys remember that scene where Izaya and Celty followed Mikado home and he asked _"_ _ **What**_ _are you guys?"_. To Celty, the Black Rider, the question makes sense as she's an urban legend. But to ask Izaya that? Lol, even Mikado wasn't sure he was human at first.

\- ' _Orihara-kun, are you human or are you a monster?'_ – LOL. He already got Shizuo asking him that and now Tomone as well. And of course, you readers too ; ) . As for whether he's actually human or not, you'll see in later chapters.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

So…*shyly waves* I'm back. Ah…I'm truly sorry it took so long for me to update this. There's lots of things I have to do, reports to write, ppt to make, etc, etc. T^T Aaaaah, I want a breaaaaak…..

Anyway, I already written most of the next chapter, so it should be up soon enough. Thanks for reading this and I hope you have a good day! ^_^


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